


Heir of the Butterflies: The Caterpillar Prince

by NotSteve



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSteve/pseuds/NotSteve
Summary: This story begins like any other Venture Bros. fanfic: The Mighty Monarch wants to kill Venture, or at least make him shit his pants; Dr. Venture finds himself in possession of a curious object; Hank makes pizza rolls. But then time travel gets involved and it gets complicated.





	1. Milkweed and Radiation Suits (prologue)

“Brock!” shrieked Dr. Venture. “Brock, I could _really_ use a bodyguard right about now!”

“A little busy here, Doc,” yelled back Brock. He had two of Monarch’s henchmen trapped in a headlock.  Using their bodies, Brock easily blocked the other henchmen from getting anywhere near him. However, Monarch's number two, curiously named 21, ran towards him, easily blocking the fresh corpses of his brethren Brock was throwing at him.

The Mighty Monarch aimed his big yellow butterfly death ray at his arch foe’s bald head, glee filling him. Dr. Venture ran in zigzags, as an attempt to prevent his total demise. He ran like such a girl, thought Monarch happily. A big bald, ugly little girl. Venture’s shriek of terror gave joy to The Mighty Monarch. Paradise, this is, he thought to himself.

“The end has come for you… DOCTOR VENTURE!” he said as he loaded up the ray. “IN JUST TEN MINUTES, YOU AND EVERYTHING— _Ten minutes_? Wh-why does it need ten minutes to load?”

“It’s a powerful death ray,” commented one of his henchmen. “It takes a while to load.”

“Well… If you had told me it took ten minutes to load, I would have loaded it ten fucking minutes ago,” said the Monarch, his glee suddenly leaving him. He slumped down into his chair, pouting. “I wanna kill Venture now!” If his wife were here, he wouldn't be having this problem, Monarch knows; she would have reminded him it needed to load.

21 and Brock, who were engaged in a knife fight just moments ago, stopped to look up at the stalling cocoon.

“Eh, what’s going on up there?” questioned Brock.

“I don’t know,” said 21. He tapped the device in his ear and called up to headquarters. “This is Number 2 calling up to HQ. Everything all right up there?”

There was a muffled sound and then Monarch answered. “Yes… yes, we’re fine. Technical difficulties. Number 68 bring me… THE DEATH RAY MANUAL!”

Brock looked at 21 curiously; 21 simply shrugged. “Uh, something wrong with the ray?” 21 asked the Monarch.

“Yes. It isn’t loading fast enough!” said The Monarch.

“It’s a death ray—” said 21.

“ _’It takes ten minutes to load’_ … Yes, yes, I realize that now.”

“What’s going on?” asked Brock.

“The death ray takes ten minutes to load,” explained 21.

“Oh. Why didn’t he load it ten minutes ago?”

“Why didn’t you load it ten minutes ago—”

“BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED TO LOAD IT TEN MINUTES AGO!” He stopped and sighed. “Can… can we wait, like, ten minutes and then presume fighting?”

“I’ve got Pilates at two,” said Dr. Venture, looking at his watch and frowning.

“Yeah, I… I’ve gotta be somewhere too,” said Brock. His eyes fell on 21, a blank expression on his face. “Can we just… pick this up later, tonight?”

“Fine… fine,” said Monarch. He looked through a notebook. It was a monarch butterfly themed planner his wife had given him for his birthday to make him more organized. At the time, he thought it was just as bad as Gary's stupid wallet gift, but has found that it is very useful at times, especially now that his wife is away half the time doing Guild stuff. "Let's see, I've got dinner with my wife at seven... Eight thirty good for you guys?"

"Yeah," said Brock.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," said Dr. Venture. 

“Henchmen… retreat, retreat… Dr. Venture’s got Pilates at two and can’t wait ten minutes to meet his demise.” Only a short few of Monarch's minions retreated, for Brock had killed most of them.

Number 21 retracted his knife back into his butterfly suit and expanded his wings. “We'll meet again soon,” he said dramatically, and then flew back to the cocoon.

"You have no idea," he thought he heard Brock mumble.

* * *

“It’s a little sad,” said Dr. Venture as he and his bodyguard Brock entered VenTech Tower. “I don’t even think the Monarch knows what he’s doing anymore.” In truth, nothing has been the same since their move into the city. Dr. Venture went from being Jonas Venture's son to multi-billionaire over night. And it's only been recently that Monarch started arching Dr. Venture again, but he seems like a lost puppy without his wife by his side. Arching seems more like a chore than anything else these days, if Dr. Venture is being honest.

Hatred and H.E.L.P.eR. were up at the front desk, freaking out about something. Dr. Venture was not really in the mood for any of it; whatever ‘it’ was, they can definitely deal with it on their own. Right now, all Rusty Venture cared about was getting into a nice hot bath.

“I know… I almost feel bad for the guy,” said Brock, lighting a cigarette.

Catching sight of the pair, Hatred quickly ran towards them. “There you are, Doc! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours.”

“Pilates,” he answered simply. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Listen to me, Doc,” said Hatred, grabbing Venture’s shoulder’s tightly. Dr. Venture, uncomfortable, tried to break free from his grasp. “We got a code purple in the laboratory.”

“Code… _purple?”_ questioned Venture.

“Code purple.” It seemed that Brock Samson knew exactly what code purple meant, for he threw his cigarette onto the ground and ran straight for the laboratory, with Hatred and H.E.L.P.eR. following close behind.

* * *

The new ice cream place that opened up a couple blocks from The Mighty Monarch’s home seemed like the perfect place to mope. He couldn’t go home; his wife was home… waiting for him, probably wondering how arching Venture went. He really didn’t feel like lying to her… again.

“It wasn’t that bad,” said 21 as they waited in line. Behind them were an elderly couple, who were none too pleased about being behind a grown man with big elaborate butterfly wings. In front of them was a young boy, no older than twelve, who seemed very eager to get his hands on his ice cream treat.

“Are you kidding? We were an embarrassment!” said Monarch. "Did you see Brock Samson? He totally annihilated half my henchmen. The others I had to execute because they were laughing at me."

“Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best idea,” said 21, rubbing the back of his neck.

The worker happily handed a vanilla ice cream cone to the woman in front of the young boy. “Next,” she said and the boy in front of them stepped forward.

“Step aside, kid,” demanded the Monarch, pushing his way up front. “21, I command you to give this lady my order!”

“Hey!” shouted the boy, angry.

Hesitating at first, 21 stepped forward and ordered. “Two root beer floats, please.”

“Make… make mine a double,” said Monarch, frowning, his head finding his palms. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Can you make one double, please?”

The worker stood shocked for a moment, her eyes going from the two men dressed as butterflies to the young boy, who looked at the two odd men in amazement. She saw the Monarch’s wrists and the weapons that were attached to it and, frightened, began making their order.

“Hey,” repeated the boy, but with a much softer tone this time. “You’re… you’re the—”

Both 21 and Monarch turned to him, Monarch’s frown quickly springing into a sly grin. “ _The Mighty Monarch_!”

“Yeah…”

The boy stood stunned for a moment, but turned when the front door opened, the bell dinging, as if expecting someone. He seemed to relax when he saw who entered and turned back to the Monarch quickly.

“The Mighty Monarch in the… flesh?” said the boy, examining the Monarch’s outfit.

“Polyester,” explained Monarch distastefully, pinching the fabric on his body suit. His attention went back to the boy. “So… you’ve heard of me?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah,” said the boy, “I’m… I’m one of your biggest, uh”—he glanced back at the door— “fans!”

21 raised a curious eyebrow, then looked at the Monarch. To his surprise, the Monarch seemed blinded by the boy’s behavior. He loved the attention, 21 soon realized; he loved being recognized.

“What’re having, kid?” asked the Monarch, a smile springing to his face.

The boy thought for a moment, then said, “Bubblegum berry blast?”

The Monarch nodded in improvement and then turned to his henchman. “21, get this boy a _double_ bubblegum berry blast.”

The young boy looked like he was about to piss his pants, he was so excited.

“Dude,” whispered 21, “this is a bad idea, like… a really bad idea. I'm pretty sure kidnapping little boys in ice cream shops is, like, totally against Guild regulations.”

“What? Aren’t we running low on henchmen?”

“I can be a henchman!” said the boy.

“See? He’s happy to do it.”

21 looked at the boy. “Do you have, like, any parents or a guardian that can… like, sign off on this?”

“Well,” he glanced back at the door, “my, uh— _uncle_ —was supposed to meet me here, but he’s”—he glanced at his digital watch—" _late_.” He looked at 21 in a way that made him a little uncomfortable. “But… but I’m sure he won’t mind if I hang out with you guys instead,” he continued, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “So, when do I get my wings?”

“Soon, young caterpillar,” said the Monarch. “Soon.”

* * *

 

“Cool… What is it?”

“Hank, get away from the code purple,” commanded Brock. “It isn’t safe.”

“No kidding,” said Dr. Venture, scanning the device with his radiation meter. “I’m surprised we haven’t dropped dead already.”

“This is probably what caused your brother’s cancer,” said Billy Quizboy. He and his partner Pete White were smart enough to be wearing radiation suits.

“Found it in the back room,” said Pete, “underneath some boxes.”

Brock picked up the phone and started dialing a number. “I’ll call it in to the OSI. They’ll come get rid of it for us.”

“What? No,” said Dr. Venture. “Don’t get rid of it!”

“We don’t know what it does, Doc,” said Brock. “It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll… I’ll figure it out,” he said. “This—whatever this is—could change the whole world. It could be the answer to all worldly problems. And more importantly, it could make me a whole lot richer!”

“I’m not so sure about this,” said Hatred.

“Yeah, I’m with Hatred on this,” said Brock. “I’m calling it in.”

“Look, my brother wasn't an idiot. If he had this here, it was for good reason," Venture explained. "Just... give me a week to figure out what it does.”

“Can I help?” asked Hank. Like an idiot, Hank placed a hand on the weird rectangular device.

“Hank, stop touching the radiated object,” said Venture. “Now be a good boy and go wash your hands.”

“I am curious about what it does,” confessed Pete.

“All right,” said Brock, defeated. “But make sure Hank keeps his radiation suit on. We don’t have any more clones, remember?”

* * *

21 had given the young boy his very own henchman butterfly suit, which the boy was very excited to put on, and was now giving him the grand tour of the lair. “So, this is the cave… or, uh, lair,” announced 21. “Over there is the Monarch’s car—I mean, the Butterfly Mobile.” He noticed the disappointment on the boy’s face, probably hoping for a more extravagant display. “It isn’t much now, but… we're just getting back into it, so... You’re, what, twelve?” He decided to change the subject. There wasn't much use trying to explain the lair; they were just starting out again, of course it's a mess. “Are you sure henching is what you want to do? It can get a little intense.”

“Eh, I grew up with this stuff,” said the boy. “You understand, Gare… Didn’t Monarch get you at fifteen?”

“Yes, but—Wait… how did you know that?”

 _“Kelly?”_ the Monarch’s voice echoed throughout the lair; he was so loud that the young boy jumped in terror. “What kind of name is that?”

“It was my father’s name. It’s a nice name,” replied a deep voice beside him.

“Yeah, for a chick.”

At this, the boy cautiously stood behind 21. “Dude relax… that’s just the Monarch’s wife, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. She’s got a deep voice… but she’s totally cool.

The Monarch and his wife appeared, and the boy shrunk lower behind 21.

“Number 21…” he coughed, “I mean, Number 2… Where is our newest recruit?”

21 stepped a few inches to his right to reveal the young boy.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch nearly choked when she caught sight of him. The boy stood stiff, looking absolutely terrified. “Wh—what? You kidnapped a child? This is a new low. 21, I can’t believe you let him… Where are his parents?” She turned to the boy. “Sweetie, where are your parents?”

It took a moment for the boy to reply, but eventually he coughed it out. “Oh… you know, they’re around.”

“Oh, look at him. He’s absolutely terrified. Sweetie, I’m so sorry. Do you know your address, honey? Monarch get him a cab home.”

Monarch opened his mouth, but it was the boy who spoke, his voice scratchy: “No. I… I want to stay.”

“What?”

The boy cleared his throat. “I want to stay. I know you think I’m not ready for this, mo—ma'am, but… but I _know_ I am. So, I’m staying and... I'm henching.”

“Oh… kay,” said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch awkwardly before turning to her husband. “I’m running late.” She kissed her husband’s cheek. “Don’t wait up for me, okay, sweetie? There's a Guild meeting and I expect it'll run late. Goodbye and good luck tonight. You’ll do fine. I know it.”

“Bye, honey,” said the Monarch, waving. He thought he saw the boy wave goodbye too, but when he looked, the boy had his arms behind his back. Monarch kept a pleasant smile while watching his wife exit his poor excuse for a lair but put on a most frightful scowl as soon as the door shut.

“21… fetch me my death ray!” he ordered.

Henchman 21 saluted and then ran to get the death ray.

“Death ray?” said the boy, surprise in his voice. “The Guild signed off on this?”

“Well… it’s not really a death ray per se,” said the Monarch. “It gives people bad stomach aches and… and a fifty percent chance of diarrhea. I came up with the idea back when I was arching that hemorrhoid guy, what’s his face… Anywho, I’d much rather see Venture crap his pants than that guy.”

“I didn’t know you arched people besides Dr. Venture.”

“Oh, yeah… loads,” he said distastefully. 21 had just rolled in the butterfly ray. Monarch placed a gentle hand on it, rubbing it thoughtfully. “But Dr. Venture, he was… He was special. The only one that really mattered. My only foe who truly deserved an ass-kicking.” He paused, as if lost in his own hatred for Venture. “But enough of that. 21, bring me… _my tools!_ We need to remove that dreaded loading switch.”

"I'm pretty sure you can't remove the switch," said 21.

"Let me try," said the boy. "I'm pretty handy with this kind of stuff."

“I don’t know, kid,” said 21. “I’ve been trying to find the problem all day and I can’t even—”

“Ah, here’s your problem,” said the boy, flicking a switch on the side of the machine. “You had it set to manual loading… It’s a lot easier if it’s just on automatic. Then it'll load without you telling it to. A lot less of a hassle this way.”

“Wonderful, henchman number—what is your number, new recruit?”

 “He’s henchman 13,” said 21.

“Good work, Number 13. Now, we—"

“Uh, actually… I was kind of thinking I could be called Milkweed,” the boy interrupted.

“Henchman… _Milk-weed?”_

“Yeah, well, maybe drop the henchman part, but yeah,” said the boy. “It goes along with the whole Monarch Butterfly theme… because, you know, monarch larvae eat milkweed.”

“This isn’t how the henchman thing works, kid,” said 21. “You get assigned a number, not a name.”

The Monarch stroked his ginger beard softly, taking a moment to contemplate. “All right, kid,” he said. “Since you helped me with my shit ray, I will allow it… _if_ Venture shits his pants tonight.”

* * *

Dr. Venture sniffed, a curious smell entering through his nostrils. His space suit, a nice Venture blue, didn’t seem to block out smells, unfortunately, which made him weary about the effectiveness of the Venture radiation suit.

“Well, we can check cloning machine off the list,” said Pete White. He held a clipboard with a list of things the device might be. Hank had suggested it might be a microwave. To spare Hank’s feelings, Pete went ahead and put it on the list.

“And we can rule out hoverboard,” said Billy. “It’s too small.”

“And it doesn’t hover,” added Pete.

Dr. Venture sniffed again. “All right, what is that God awful smell?” Dr. Venture finally asked.

“Oh, that’s me, pop,” said Hank. “I’m making pizza rolls.” He gestured to the radiated device.

“Hank! It’s not a microwave,” said Dr. Venture. He hurried to remove the food from the device, but nothing was inside it.

“That’s funny,” said Hank, scratching the top part of his radiation suit. “I set the timer for three minutes.”

“You dimwit,” said Pete. “You’re gonna kill us all.”

“When… when did you set it?” asked Billy.

Hank looked at his watch. “Eh, about two minutes… fifty-eight seconds ago.”

The machine dinged, and the pizza rolls appeared. Hank, oblivious, happily retrieved his food.

“Hank, don’t eat those,” said Dr. Venture, sounding rather frustrated.

“How can something just vanish for three minutes and just reappear like nothing happened,” Pete questioned. “What is this thing, a time machine or something?”

Both Billy and Dr. Venture looked at each other, shock in their eyes.

“Oh my God, it’s a time machine,” said Dr. Venture.

“INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!”

The emergency lights blinked red and Dr. Venture looked at his watch, letting out a disappointing sigh. “Ah geez, is it eight thirty already? I’ll be right back. I have this thing with the Monarch.”

“You can’t just leave,” said Billy. “We just discovered a time machine in your laboratory!”

“Relax,” said Dr. Venture. “It shouldn’t—”

A loud explosion interrupted him, and the Monarch’s cocoon crashed into the laboratory. “DR. VENTURE!” the Monarch roared, coming into sight. “THE END HAS COME FOR YOU!”

Dr. Venture looked angrily at the destruction the cocoon had caused to his laboratory and frowned. “I’ll have you know you’re paying for this,” he said, gesturing to the destruction.

“Fine… fine,” agreed Monarch. “Just… put it on my bill or something...

“HENCHMAN 13,” ordered The Mighty Monarch. When no one answered, he turned to his small group of henchmen, specifically the young boy. Monarch coughed, giving his henchman another chance to cooperate. “Henchman 13,” he repeated. “All right, fine... Milkweed!”

“Yes, Monarch, sir!” said the boy proudly.

“Fetch me my death ray!”

“Yes, Monarch, sir!”

“You don’t need ten minutes to load, do you?” Dr. Venture said, bored. “I’m pressed for time.”

“ _You don’t need ten minutes to load, do you?”_ the Monarch mimicked back like a playground bully would do, disgust in his voice.

Henchman 13—Milkweed—rolled in the death ray. Monarch took the handles and aimed the device at Dr. Venture. “NOW, VENTURE, ARE YOU READY TO MEET… YOUR DEMISE?” He let out a wickedly evil laugh.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” said Dr. Venture, crossing his arms. “Make it quick.”

Monarch pressed the button and a purple light escaped the ray and landed on Dr. Venture. His skin began to glow and, for a moment, he thought he had truly met his demise. Monarch felt absolutely ecstatic; he had finally got Venture! But then Venture’s body stopped glowing, and everyone was left confused.

“Wh-what happened?” asked Monarch. “Why isn’t he shitting his pants?”

 He turned to henchman 13—Milkweed—expecting answers. Milkweed just shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man,” he said plainly.

“Are we done here?” asked Dr. Venture, his fear quickly turning back into irritation.

Just then, what looked like the butterfly mobile came zooming into the laboratory, creating another gaping hole.

“What… what the hell is this?” asked Dr. Venture, first looking at the vehicle and then back at Monarch.

Monarch turned to his number 21. He shrugged, not even realizing anyone took the butterfly mobile. All the henchmen were accounted for.

Monarch quickly disguised his confusion. He was a professional, after all. “Ah… yes, the back up is here… to, to help us! Good work, 21, for calling it in…”

“I didn’t—”

The car door opened and out came an older version of 21. Shocked, Monarch turned to his number two, the _young_ version of 21, expecting answers. 21, however, looked like he was about to have an existential crisis. “Dude, that’s… that’s me!” he said, looking from his future self to Monarch, disbelief in his expression.

“Hi, Gary!” Hank greeted the older version, oblivious.

“Woah, dude, I hardly recognize you,” said Gary.

“Thanks,” said Hank, flexing. “Yeah, I’ve been working out.”

“That’s not actually why… I’m actually looking for somebody,” he said. “A twelve-year-old boy, about yay high… responds to the name Kelly—or, uh… Milkweed.”

Everyone stood still as the older version of 21 began looking around the room. He stopped when he spotted the cocoon. “Dude, there you are! C’mon, let’s go. We gotta get back.”

Both Monarch and 21 turned to the boy, who smiled at them. “Well,” he said, “it’s been fun, guys. We should do this again in about thirteen years.” He jumped down from the cocoon and greeted older Gary like he was greeting an old friend.

“You gotta stop doing this. Your parents are totally gonna kill me,” said the older version of Gary.

"What? It's not like you didn't know where I was."

And then they got into the butterfly mobile and left without so much as a goodbye.

Everyone stood shocked for a moment before 21 finally spoke up: “Okay, what in the hell was that?”

Dr. Venture groaned in pain, dropping to his knees and clutching his stomach. “I... I have to go to the bathroom,” he said.

The Monarch smiled wickedly. “YES!”

* * *

“Dude, I told you to wait for me at the ice cream parlor.”

“You were late.”

“I said six thirty. I got there at, like, six twenty-five!”


	2. Thirteen Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place thirteen years after the events of the previous chapter.

“The Monarch butterfly goes through four stages during its life cycle: the egg; the larvae; the pupa; and the adult butterfly. For the last twelve years of my life, I have been the larvae—the caterpillar, if you will—gorging myself with milkweed and waiting to become a butterfly…” There was a screen, showing all the stages of the Monarch butterfly behind the young Kelly Don Fitzcarraldo. He turned to his audience, his parents, who were sitting uncomfortably in Kelly’s kid-sized lounging chairs. His dad had his hand raised. “Ah, does The Mighty Monarch, the Butterfly King, have something to contribute?”

“Um, yeah, when did we get a projector?”

Kelly sighed. “It’s Daggy’s… He let me borrow it for tonight—you’re… we’re getting off topic. Let’s move on, shall we?” He clicked to the next slide. It was a picture of his parents, looking menacing with their villainy costumes on, with young Kelly photoshopped in next to them.

“Honey, this is all very... impressive, but I really have to start getting ready,” said his mother, standing, taking the chair up with her. She easily wiggled out of it and placed the chair back onto the ground.

“What? I’m only a couple slides in,” said Kelly. “You guys promised me you would take this seriously!”

“And we have,” said his mother. “Your father and I both agree you’re too young to be henching for him… let alone, be his number two.”

They both turned to his dad, who awkwardly shrugged and let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m not asking for a level nine arching, mom,” said Kelly. “I’m just asking for… for a chance. Please. I’m ready. You know I’m ready!”

She crossed her arms, keeping her stance. Her frightful glare told Kelly she wasn’t about to back down. Not in this timeline, anyway. “No,” she said firmly, turning her heel and walking out of the room.

He stood quiet for a moment, then let out an angry scream and kicked down the chair his mom had been sitting in. _I hate you_ , he wanted to yell out. _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you_. He wanted to break every object he had in his suddenly too childish room. The model of the solar system he built with Daggy. The posters on his walls. His piano keyboard. Hell, he wanted to rip his own hair out! Anything to make them listen. God, if they could just listen to him for once!  Instead, he turned away and fought back the urge to cry.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his dad gently smiling at him. Kelly felt a rage inside his guts; _how dare you smile… how dare you be happy when I’m so miserable_.

“What?” Kelly said. He didn’t care how harsh he sounded. He wanted his dad to know he was mad—nay, furious.

His dad glanced at the doorway, making sure his mom was out of earshot. “Look… if it were up to me—“

“You’d let me hench?”

Panic struck his dad, his eyes wide in fear. “I–I didn’t say that,” he said. He tugged onto his butterfly costume nervously, looking back at the doorway as if his wife would come running in with a hairdryer or comb to attack him with. “That wasn’t what I said,” he added loudly, so if anyone— _his wife_ —was nearby, they— _she_ —wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

When he felt it was safe, he continued: “Look, you’re our baby.” Kelly looked away, embarrassed. He wasn’t a baby; he was twelve and ready to arch. “If anything were to ever happen to you, especially while working with the Guild, we’d be, we’d be….” He cleared his throat, unable to finish the sentence. “The Guild isn’t one of your fun little games, kiddo. It’s real… with rules, and real consequences if you don’t follow those rules.”

“So, you’re saying I should… follow those rules?”

“Yes! I’m so glad you’re getting it,” he said. “And the Guild isn’t looking for twelve-year-old boys to hench right now.”

“Have _you_ always followed the Guild’s rules?”

“Me? Are you kidding… Yeah, of course I have! It’s…. it’s the Guild!” said his dad. There was a nervousness to his voice. He’s still scared mom might come back in and start yelling at him to shut up, Kelly suspects. He coughed and sat on Kelly’s bed, gesturing for his son to join him. Hesitantly, Kelly did so. “Look, you’re a smart kid—way smarter than I was when I was your age. You have your whole life ahead of you, to be whatever you want to be—a villain, if that’s what you wanna be—but only a few short years left to be a kid.”

* * *

 

Kelly looked curiously at the television as Captain von Trapp ripped the nazi flag. “I guess I never realized this movie had Nazis in it,” he said. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed his mouth full. Only half made it into his mouth, while the rest of it fell down his shirt and onto the floor.

Gary laughed. “Dude, really? That’s, like, the main part of the story, them fleeing from Nazis. Isn’t this, like, your favorite movie? How many times have you seen this?”

Kelly shrugged. “I dunno.”

Gary sat comfortably on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Kelly was on the floor, his back up against the couch. A pile of old Halloween candy and wrappers were scattered around the table and floors; a mess Kelly’s mother will certainly scold them for.

“I remember watching this with my grandma when I was four,” said Gary. He grabbed a piece of popcorn, threw it in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth. It landed on his shirt. He grabbed it with his hand and plut it into his mouth. “I had a giant crush on the girl who sings about being sixteen.”

“Who, Liesl?” The woman in question appeared on screen and Kelly felt nothing. She was pretty but not pretty pretty, thought Kelly. It was then Liesl’s brother Friedrich came into shot and Kelly felt strange. Ignoring it, Kelly grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at Gary. “Gross, dude, she’s, like, dead now.”

He laughed as Gary threw it back at him.

“Kelly, honey! Are you downstairs?” he heard his mother shout.

“Yeah,” he yelled back.

“Come up here,” said his mother. “I wanna talk to you.”

* * *

 

Kelly found his mother at her vanity, putting mascara on her eyelashes. She was dressed in her black robe, the one with the golden butterfly on the left chest, and her hair was up in a nice, elegant bun.

The years have been very kind to Sheila Fitzcarraldo; she hardly looks a day over thirty-five, which is quite a compliment for a woman in her late forties. Her makeup played a big role in that, of course, concealing all of her wrinkles and age marks, all the things she isn’t quite ready to share with the world.

Kelly knocked lightly on the opened door and entered. “If this is about what happened earlier today, save it. Dad already gave me the talk.”

Kelly looked very similar to his mother—black hair, blue eyes—but had inherited his father’s untidy, long eyebrows, a trait he manages with monthly trimmings. He was tall, like his father, already standing at his mother’s height.

She sighed deeply. “Sweetie, I don’t do it because I’m against you,” she said. “Do you think I like being the bad guy?”

He looked at her curiously for a moment. “Is that a trick question?”

She laughed, her eyes looking at him through the mirror. Moving from her lashes to her lips, she began putting lipstick on her lips. “Yur jus too yung,” she continued through pursed lips. Satisfied with her work she smacked her lips together and gifted the air with a gentle kiss. “Maybe after college,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

 _“College?”_ he said, distaste in his mouth. He didn’t even want to go to college, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He just wanted to go straight to arching, with maybe a side career on Broadway.

The glare he got from his mother told him he might have said it a bit too harsh for her liking.

To prove he wasn’t about to have one of his tweenage outbursts, like he did this morning, he let out a heavy sigh and plopped face first onto his parents’ bed. “I… I don’t wanna wait until college,” he mumbled under his breath, just low enough so his mother couldn’t hear.

“Oh, quit your moping,” she said, walking to her closet. “Help me pick out a dress for tonight.”

Kelly lifted his head up, so he could examine the dresses. The answer was obvious; both the blue and green ones were beautiful, but not fit to be worn by Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. Not tonight, anyway. “The black one,” he said confidently, and let his head drop back down. “It’ll match dad’s butterfly suit.”

“He’s not wearing his Monarch outfit to the gala,” she said.

“He’ll add a bow tie for class.”

As if on cue, his dad appeared in the doorway, wearing his monarch costume with a bow tie placed sloppily around his neck. “Ready, honey?” he said. “I just saw Phantom Limb’s limo pull up in the driveway.”

Kelly lifted his head and met his mother’s eyes. There was an awkward pause before both mother and son burst out into laughter.

“What? What’s the matter?” said his dad, panic in his voice. He checked the mirror to see if he had something on his face. “Why are you laughing?”

“And the gold earrings,” added Kelly. “They look the best in the moonlight.”

“Good eye,” said his mother, taking the hanger off the black dress. She turned to her husband. “Monarch, we talked about this. Wear the suit in your closet. You look ridiculous.”

“What? I look fine,” his dad claimed. “Besides, who cares? It’s the Guild’s Gala… we’re the top dogs there. No one’s gonna care what we look like.”

The doorbell rang, and Kelly ran to answer it quickly. Anything to get away from his bickering parents.

* * *

 

Gary had made it to the door before Kelly. He had already invited the guests into the living room. _The Sound of Music_ had been paused on the television. Kelly kind of wishes Gary had just turned the tv off completely; musicals are Kelly’s guilty pleasures and he’s a little embarrassed about liking them. Phantom Limb, looking dapper in a black and dark purple three-piece suit, took a seat on the sofa, brushing off some popcorn kettles while doing so. Some blonde bimbo (who had bigger boobs than brains, no doubt) sat awkwardly beside him, eyeing all the candy wrappers sprawled out onto the coffee table. But it was the scrawny boy to Phantom Limb’s left that brought joy to the otherwise gloomy Kelly. His happiness traveled down into his stomach, giving him a most welcome ache.

“Hey Daggy,” Kelly greeted.

“‘Sup,” said the boy with a sly grin.

“You have an IQ of one forty, Dagwood,” said Phantom Limb, “act like it.”

Kelly saw Dagwood roll his eyes. “Sorry, papa,” he said. He simply shrugged at Kelly and they shared a moment of internal laughter.

“Sorry about the mess,” said Gary awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Kelly and I, we sorta have this thing every Friday night… where we eat some candy… and some popcorn, and watch a movie or play some video games…” Neither Phantom Limb or his date were listening. “And you don’t care. All right—“

“See? You look so much better, sweetie,” Kelly heard his mom say. He turned and watched as his parents made their way down the stairs. Kelly’s dad, looking more upset than uncomfortable, adjusted the crotch of his pants.

“Kelly Don Fitzcarraldo,” said his mom. She was wearing the black dress and gold earrings he had picked out for her. His dad had changed into his black suit; it wasn’t as fabulous like his mother’s outfit, but it looked nice, nonetheless. “What is this mess? I thought I told you to clean up?” _You said no such thing_ , Kelly thought; his mom should be used to him and Gary wrecking the living room on Friday nights. She was probably just embarrassed because there were guests around. “I expect this place to be clean by the time we get home, mister.”

 _Don’t we always_ , Kelly thought to say.

He turned to Dagwood and shrugged. Now it was his turn to get lectured. Daggy let out a slight snort, which earned him a disapproving glare from his father.

“I hope you don’t mind if Dagwood stays over,” said Phantom Limb. “His mother is… well, it seems she’s taking an unexpected vacation to the Bahamas. And I couldn’t find a baby sitter in such short notice.” Phantom Limb was clearly irritated; his son simply looked bored.

“Of course not,” said his mom, the sternness quickly fading. “Sweetie, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Our home is your home.”

“I expect you to be on your best behavior, young man,” ordered Phantom Limb. “No funny business, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can we go,” asked Kelly’s dad, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I wanna get there before the shrimp cocktails are gone.”

“Sweetie, it’s bottomless,” said his mom. “They’re not gonna run out.”

“That’s what you said last year, and they ran out in, like, twenty minutes!”

Phantom Limb and his date stood, brushing popcorn bits off their clothing. He rustled his son’s hair with his invisible hand, then he and his date left for the limo.

“There’s pizza money on the counter,” said Kelly’s mom as she kissed her son’s forehead. “Be good for Gary and… try not to blow up the house.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be making that mistake again,” said Gary. “Have fun, you two—uh, four. See you at ten.”

* * *

 

Kelly and Dagwood sat slumped on the couch, wirelesses video game controllers in hand, mindlessly clicking away. Gary was below them, trash bin in hand, picking the candy wrappers up off the floor.

“You guys could help, you know,” said Gary.

“Sorry… can’t,” said Kelly.

“Zander the Lizard God just captured the princess and we only have three minutes until she gets baked in lava.”

“What… dude, that’s awesome,” said Gary, looking at the tv. “How’d you got pass the guard? I’ve been stuck on that part for, like, the past two days.”

“You have to take a charisma potion before facing him,” said Kelly.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”

With a heavy sigh, Gary stood, blocking their view. Kelly and Dagwood, aggravated, struggled to see around him.

“Gary! What’re ya doing? Move! We’re about to beat the game!” said Kelly, trying to push him out of the way, but Gary was just too big.

There was a sad little jingle and “YOU HAVE DIED” appeared on the screen.

Kelly scoffed. “Dude!” he said. Angry, he slapped Gary’s arm. “Now we’re going to have to start all over again!”

“You have no idea how much it hurt me to do that,” said Gary, handing Kelly the trash bin. “But you promised you’d clean up and you haven’t. You can beat Lord Zander once we’ve finished.”

“Fine, I’ll help… gees,” said Kelly, defeated. He stood, grabbed a pile of wrappers off the coffee table and dumped them into the bin. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” said Gary. “Now, go get the vacuum from the closet.”

Dagwood stood, too, but made no effort to help. Instead, he leaned against the wall and watched as Kelly plugged in the vacuum. Though Dagwood stood four inches below his best friend Kelly, he carried himself as elegantly as his father did. “I don’t understand why we couldn’t go with them. We’re old enough to attend that stupid gala. But no, my father decides to take the barista lady from Starbucks instead.”

“And my PowerPoint presentation didn’t help much either,” said Kelly.

“I told you it wouldn’t—I’m gonna need that projector back, by the way,” said Daggy. “So, onto plan G then?”

“Nah… Nothing’s gonna convince them, I don’t think,” said Kelly. “My dad told me to wait, and just be a kid… Follow the Guild’s rules, he said. Like he did.”

He was about to start up the vacuum when Gary burst out into laughter.

“What?” asked Kelly, confused.

“Oh… oh, I thought you were joking.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, your dad broke the Guild’s rules all the time! He was arching Venture way before the Guild knew about it,” said Gary. “Oh, and then the Guild banned him from arching Dr. Venture, so we dressed up as the Blue Morpho and Kano and killed all the villains who were arching Venture. If your dad has taught me anything over the years, it’s that bad guys don’t follow the rules.”

Kelly turned to Dagwood, a mischievous smile forming on his face.

“Plan G?” asked Dagwood.

Kelly shook his head. “No plan. Not this time,” he said. “I think I’m gonna take a page out of my dad’s book—c’mon.”

Quickly, the two boys ran upstairs.

“H-hey, where’re you guys going,” Gary yelled up after them. He turned to the plugged-in vacuum. “You still need to vacuum!”


	3. The Guild's Gala

“What about this?” asked Kelly, holding up last year’s Halloween costume. He and Dagwood were up in his room, trying to find the perfect costume to wear. Piles on piles of clothing lay scattered all throughout Kelly’s room. It looked like a horror show; almost like he had been robbed.

“You’re going to actually wear a pirate costume with butterfly wings to your first arching?”

“Nah, I grew out of this thing the day after I wore it.” He tossed the costume onto his bed where Dagwood was sitting.

Dagwood examined the costume himself, a disgusted expression on his face. He comes from a household where only the finest of fabrics gets worn. Wool. Silk. Fur. Anything that gets the room’s attention. Dagwood wore a suit and ascot underneath a fur coat last Halloween; people thought it was his costume (one sweet old lady even thought he was a pimp daddy), but it was really just his outfit that day. This silly pirate costume looked like it was made out of cheap material, like plastic, something that could easily be torn. “I’d rather go naked, thanks.”

“C’mon, it’s the only thing I got that’ll fit you.” He took another look inside his closet, pulling out a peculiar piece of black and yellow striped fabric. “Well, I’ve got my old caterpillar costume… but I haven’t worn it since I was, like, three. Might be a little tight.”

Dagwood frowned at Kelly’s terrible short joke. “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid pirate outfit,” he said, defeated. “But I’m ripping off the butterfly wings.”

There was a knock at Kelly’s door just as Dagwood tore the butterfly wings off. “Come in,” exclaimed Kelly from inside his closet.

Gary entered his room. His eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the mess that was Kelly’s room. “Dude… what’re guys preparing for, a fashion show or something?” He picked up a pair of Kelly’s underpants that was covering Neptune on Kelly’s solar system model. Horrified, he flicked them onto the chair beside him.

“I’m looking for something to wear,” Kelly said simply, too busy rummaging through his closet to look at Gary.

“What’s wrong with what you have on?” Kelly had on his simple everyday clothing, jeans and a T-shirt, something far too simple for an arching.

“Something to wear to _arch_ ,” said Dagwood. He removed his shirt and had begun putting on the pirate costume, minus the butterfly wings. “Honestly, keep up, old man.”

“Well, before you start playing heroes and villains, go downstairs and vacuum the living room,” ordered Gary.

Dagwood let out an exasperated sigh. “We’re not _playing_ anything,” he said.

Kelly, coming out of the closet, turned to Gary. “Do you know where mom’s old Guild jacket is? The black one with the red lining?”

Gary looked at him curiously. “In the downstairs closet, I think,” said Gary. Kelly ran out of the room quickly before Gary could ask him why he needed it. His focus then went to Dagwood. “What’re guys up to?”

By now, Dagwood was a full-on pirate, eye patch and everything. The costume, though baggy, worked for his scrawny figure. “Argh, wouldn’t ye like to know, matey,” he said in his best pirate imitation. He frowned at his impression. “I’m sorry… I just can’t get into it. I look absolutely dreadful,” he said in his regular voice, gesturing towards his outfit.

“You’ve had better outfits,” agreed Gary.

Off in the distance, Gary was pleased to hear the vacuum running. A few moments later the vacuuming ceased, and Kelly ran back into his room, breathless and wearing his mother’s old Guild jacket.

“Okay, I finished vacuuming,” Kelly told Gary. He then took his black tights off of one of his kiddie chairs.

Gary opened his mouth again to speak but, again, Kelly ran off before he could. In a quick moment he was back, wearing his black tights and his mother’s Guild jacket.

“What do you think about this?” he asked, twirling around.

“Hm, it’s nice… but what if someone recognizes us?”

Kelly walked to his closet, picking out two masks from his top shelf. “I’ve got a hockey mask and a gas mask. Take your pick.”

“Hockey mask,” said Dagwood, and Kelly tossed him the mask. He adjusted his eye patch to be placed over the mask, making him look like a pirate version of Jason. “I’ll be a killer pirate.” He struck a fierce pose. Kelly couldn’t help but smile, a tickle in his stomach.

“Okay… this seems like a bad idea,” said Gary. “Like, a really bad idea.”

“Would you relax, dude?” said Kelly. There were two identical metal devices on his desk. They were small and oval-shaped. He tossed one over to Dagwood and placed the other one securely in his coat pocket. “We’re the bad guys. This is what we do.”

“No, this is what _I_ do… This is what your dad and mom do,” said Gary. “You’re supposed to be riding bicycles and… I don’t know, listening to pop music, whatever twelve-year-old boys do these days. Definitely not arching, that’s for sure.

“And what were those weird things you put in your pockets just now,” Gary continued. “Your mom said you had to stop building weapons for your dad.” 

 “Relax, dude, they’re just Talkies,” he said, pulling his out and showing it to Gary. He clicked it on and began talking, his voice echoing out of Daggy’s device: “I modified my old Power Rangers Walkie Talkies to make them last longer and sound better.”

“Okay, that is pretty cool,” admitted Gary. “But as your guardian for the night, I forbid either of you from going out arching.”

 “All the other bad guys are living it up over at the Guild’s Gala while you’re stuck here watching a couple of lame kids,” said Dagwood.

“Are you kidding? I love having an excuse not to go to that stupid thing,” said Gary. “That thing is awful. I feel bad for your parents for having to attend it every year.

“Yeah, you’re not going,” declared Gary. “Clean this up and you can go downstairs and defeat Lord Zander. I’ll order the pizza—everyone cool with triple meat?”

“Oh my God, Gary! Aren’t you tired of having to babysit me all the time?” asked Kelly. He let out an exasperated sigh. “I mean… I wake up Saturday mornings and you’re there, making me pancakes while dad’s off trying to kill Venture. I get home from school and you’re there, making sure I eat a healthy snack. I get done with dance class and you’re there. I finish my clarinet lessons and you’re there. You’re always there! I can’t even turn a corner in my own home without seeing you! Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“No… of course not.”

Kelly hesitated before responding, “Well, I’m tired of you.”

He put on the gas mask and turned to Dagwood. “We’re going,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” said Gary sternly.

Not wanting to hurt Kelly, he gently grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving. But Kelly easily shrugged him off and walked away.

“You’re not his dad,” said Dagwood before following Kelly out.

“Oh man,” said Gary, pulling out his phone and running after them. “Wait… you guys, come back!”

* * *

 

The Mighty Monarch sat slumped in his chair, looking on at the crowd of villains dancing. His feet killing him, he opted to let Phantom Limb spin his wife around the dancefloor for a few songs. Phantom Limb’s date, some girl from Starbucks, apparently, sat across from Monarch; she seemed unbothered that her date had been stolen from her, her head moving off-beat to the classical music playing. Beside Monarch, unbeknownst to him, his wife’s phone, hidden underneath a used napkin, began to buzz frantically.

Mistakenly, he made eye contact with the young girl. They both smiled awkwardly at one another.

“So, uh…”

“Milli,” said the girl sweetly, “with an i.”

“So, Milli… with an i, how did you and Phantom Limb meet?”

“I’m a barista,” she said simply.

Monarch waited for her to elaborate. When she did not, he responded, “You met at your… your workplace?”

She giggled. “Yep. I said, ‘Order for Mr. Hamilton,’ and he came floating to me.”

“Oh, that’s… nice,” said Monarch, tugging at his bowtie. The song now over, he turned to see his wife and Phantom Limb walking back to the table. He wonders if she’ll let him ditch this stupid thing, or, at the least, fool around in the storage closet like last year. Maybe she’ll even let him make up some stupid excuse about needing to get ready to arch Venture tomorrow. He did need to prepare; that wasn’t a lie.

 “I’ve never dated anyone quite like Hamilton before,” said Milli. “Are you also in the magician business… uh, Monarch?”

“He’s not a… His limbs are invisible because—"

“I hope Monarch here hasn’t bored you too much, my dear Milli,” said Phantom Limb, taking his seat next to her.

“We were just talking about the magician business,” said Milli.

Phantom Limb coughed uncomfortably. “Now, Milli, we’ve been over this. I’m not a magician… I’m a super villain.”

“Oh right.” With a sly smile, she placed her index finger on Phantom Limb’s lips. “I forgot,” she said innocently. Phantom Limb began sucking on it seductively as Monarch searched for something to barf inside of.

“So, uh, how _is_ the barista business,” asked Sheila awkwardly. She felt her phone buzz below her.

“Oh, it’s pretty boring,” she said, snuggling up close to Phantom Limb. “Though, one time, Zack Efron came in and bought a whole bunch of cookies from us.”

“Oh my God,” said Sheila, looking at her phone.

“I know,” said Milli. “Three words… he did not age well.” The next song started playing and she began to gently bop her head off-beat again.

“What? No.” Standing, she turned to Monarch. “I’ve got fifteen missed calls from Gary. There must be some kind of emergency. We have to go. Now.”

Sheila held her phone up to her ear, trying to listen to Gary’s messages.

“What happened?” asked Phantom Limb.

“I don’t know—I can’t hear over the music.” Quickly, she ran for the exit. Both Monarch and Phantom Limb followed suit, leaving behind a dazed Milli at the table.

Outside, where the loud city noise was a little bit quieter, she was free to listen to one of Gary’s messages. “He says… they left.”

“Who? The von Trapp family?” said Monarch. “From Kelly’s favorite movie? Of course they left. They needed to get away from the Nazis.”

“No… the kids, the kids left. Kelly and Dagwood,” said Sheila, gesturing for him to quiet down.

“The house?” questioned Phantom Limb.

“Yes, now everyone shut up, so I can listen.” She covered her other ear in an attempt to block out the noise around her. Panicked screaming disrupted her concentration and she turned to see Gary running frantically towards them.

“Gary!” said Sheila.

“The kids…  arching… here… roof,” said Gary, breathless, pointing to the sky.

“What?” said Phantom Limb.

“The kids left the house to arch,” said Sheila, already running back inside with Monarch and Phantom Limb following close behind. “They’re up on the roof.”

“Okay, more running…” said a tired Gary, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm. He put pressure on the cramp in his stomach and started running again.

* * *

 

Kelly embraced the cool night air, the wind blowing in his face. He felt like a king, even though he was still just a caterpillar. His Talkie vibrated in his coat pocket. Dagwood was on the other end of the building, keeping a close watch on all the villains inside. “This is Milkweed,” Kelly answered confidently.

Dagwood snickered. _“Milkweed?”_

Kelly’s face went red, embarrassed. “Yeah… I like it. It goes with my dad’s butterfly theme.”

“Dude, we’re rebelling against our parents,” Dagwood reminded. “We’re not going along with their stupid super villain personas. You don’t see me calling myself Visible Limb, do you?”

Kelly thought for a moment. He wasn’t doing this to start a rebellion; he was doing this to prove to his parents he was ready to arch with them. “What’s your name then?”

“Dagwood.”

“I mean your _super villain_ name,” said Kelly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “It’s Dagwood. I’m keeping it simple.”

Dagwood and Milkweed, taking over the world together. The thought brought joy to Kelly. The image of them together up at the top filled his mind. With a sigh, he shook his feelings aside, opting to look out at the busy street below. The busy sidewalk was filled with people, all avoiding each other’s gaze, quickly going from one place to another; cars that were stalled honked their horns, in an attempt to speed up the traffic. Beautiful, thought Kelly. Just beautiful.

Kelly’s Talkie vibrated again. He took one last look at the city. This was it. Everything’s going to change after this, he knew. And so, clicking it on, he said, “You ready?”

“Dude… get out of there. Abort! Flee! Skedaddle!”

“What? W-what’s the matter?” said Kelly, panic rising. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting Gary to come hurtling towards him, like some wild animal.

“It’s the Guild. They’re—”

Dagwood’s voice cut off and only static remained. “Dagwood?” said Kelly, clicking the Talkie on and off again in the hopes to get Daggy back. “Dagwood… come in. Daggy?”

A bright blinding light shone on Kelly and a black helicopter emerged from what seemed like nowhere. “THIS IS A PRIVATE EVENT,” said a booming voice above him. “LEAVE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO ENGAGE IN LETHAL COMBAT.”

Kelly, attempting to block his eyes from the light, held his hands above his head. His legs wobbled, unable to move.

“Stop…” Kelly heard an all too familiar deep voice shout behind him. “It’s Kelly… my son,” said his mom. The light went out and the panic went away.

“MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES, DR. MRS. THE MONARCH,” said the voice. “KELLY, YOU’VE GROWN SO MUCH. YOU WERE JUST A TINY LITTLE THING THE LAST TIME WE SAW YOU.”

Awkwardly, Kelly waved up to the helicopter. “T-thanks,” he said meekly.

The helicopter was quick to flee, leaving Kelly to deal with his frustrated parents, and an out-of-breath Gary.

* * *

 

“Arching… _the Guild?_ Wh-who would you give you such a _stupid_ idea?” asked his mother. Kelly’s eyes went to his dad. His mom’s eyes followed. “Of course… I should have known.”

“What? Me? I told him _not_ to go out arching!”

“No, you lied to me!” said Kelly. “You told me that you always followed the Guild’s rules—you looked me right in the eyes and lied to me! _You_ don’t follow the rules, why are you so upset that I don’t want to either?”

“Um… yeah,” said Gary with an awkward cough, “I kind of—sort of—told him about the Blue Morpho thing… and about you arching Venture.”

“So what? Everybody knows I hate Dr. Venture. I’ve been arching him for years now!”

“You started arching Dr. Venture without the Guild knowing about it! You dressed up as the Blue Morpho to kill people! And you lied, to your own son—you lie to my face all the time! You’re a liar!”

He blinked, not caring about the tears rolling down his face. He almost felt embarrassed for crying in front of Gary, but Kelly was too furious to care. Unable to look at his parents, he opted to look down at his shoes.

“Oh, sweetie,” said his mom. He could hear the sadness in her voice. She sat down next to Kelly and began rubbing his back soothingly. Like she’s done so many times before. She glared at her husband. “Monarch, you should have been honest with him about your past.”

“Ever heard of ‘do as daddy says not as daddy does’?” He smiled, in the hopes his words had lightened the mood. They did not. “Okay,” he said, taking a seat on the other side of Kelly, “I’m sorry I lied. I just… didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I’ve made.”

Kelly sniffled. “I didn’t do it to make you mad,” he said. “I did it to prove to you that I’m ready.”

His parents stayed silent. He felt his anger rise at that. _Why aren’t they saying anything? They don’t care about me… They don’t care about my feelings… They don’t care!_ Soon, his mother’s touch became unbearable and he shrugged her off.

The grandfather clock dinged in the living room. It was midnight. “It’s late,” declared his mom. “Let’s all just get some rest and we can talk about this over breakfast.”

“No, honey, I can’t,” said his dad. “I got that thing with Venture in the morning, remember?”

“Monarch, your son is more important than arching Dr. Venture.”

“But honey, he’s showcasing his new invention,” said his dad. “I wanna be there to ruin it for him!”

“I can’t believe you. Your son needs you and you’re thinking about arching Venture!”

“No, of course not… but this is my job, sweetie! I can’t just skip it.”

Kelly wanted to scream at them. Their constant bickering over him drove him crazy. Kelly huffed, standing, and began shuffling his way upstairs to his room. His parents seemed to notice him leaving, for they went silent.

“Kelly?” his mom called after him. Kelly did not respond. “Goodnight. We’ll… talk about this in the morning. Okay, sweetie?”

Again, Kelly said nothing.

* * *

 

With a deep sigh, Kelly flopped face first onto his bed, unbothered by the piles of clothes on it. His Talkie buzzed from inside his mom’s coat. Lazily, he grabbed the device and switched it on. “This is Milkweed,” he said. Remembering Dagwood hated that nickname, he corrected himself, “I mean, Kelly. This is Kelly.”

“They kill you yet,” he heard Dagwood’s hushed voice say.

Kelly turned over on his back, a soft smile forming on his face. “No… not yet,” he said. “You?”

“Pop’s already forgotten about it, I think,” said Daggy. “Sent me off to my room to _‘think about my actions’_ … Probably just so he can bang the barista girl.”

There was a certain sadness in Dagwood’s voice. Kelly felt the urge to apologize, for some odd reason, but Dagwood wasn’t much for people feeling sorry for him. So, Kelly stayed silent.

“Pop burned your pirate outfit, by the way. I managed to save the eye patch, but everything else is in ashes,” said Dagwood. “Frankly, I think it’s an improvement.”

Kelly laughed, the feeling in his gut growing stronger with every passing second. “Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll bring over some of my clothes in the morning,” said Dagwood. “We’ll pick out a proper outfit for me. One less so… Halloween-y.”

Kelly’s smile quickly faded. He wanted Dagwood to come over, so he wouldn’t feel so alone. But his parents were right next door, probably plotting all the ways to punish him. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“C’mon, your dad’ll be at VenTech, arching Venture,” said Dagwood. “It’ll be the perfect time. Everyone’ll be distracted by Venture’s new invention. Supposed to be world changing, pop says.”

Kelly sat up. “World changing? Like, will the news be there?”

“For sure!”

He can surprise his dad in the morning, help him get Dr. Venture. They’ll work so well as a team; his dad will insist he become his number two. And the crowd of people, they’ll see the father and son duo and want more. The Guild would have to let him in then.

“Daggy… I’ve got a stupid idea,” confessed Kelly.

“I can do stupid,” said Dagwood. Kelly smiled.


	4. The Delinquent Duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted the chapter to be called 'The Brat Pack', but it just didn't make a whole lot of sense, because two doesn't make a pack. So, I settled for 'The Delinquent Duo'. For some reason, this was a very difficult chapter to write. It’s a little shorter than the last three chapters.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“We’re live here at VenTech where famous scientist Dr. Venture will test out his latest creation,” said the reporter. For Kelly, she looked like she had one face job too many; her cheek bones were as high as her eyeballs, giving her a most terrifying permanent smile. She stood before a newsroom cameraman with a ‘Channel 5 News’ microphone in her hand. A crowd full of people and an elaborate blue curtain, hiding Dr. Venture’s creation, served as her background. “This has been thirteen years in the making, ladies and gentlemen,” she continued. “Originally created out of gamma rays and other harmful toxins, Dr. Venture has found a way to make it suitable for human use.

“After many private test runs, Dr. Venture has finally deemed it safe enough to showcase to the world,” she said. “Hank Venture, Dr. Venture’s son, will be the first _living_ person to use the time machine. Hank Venture has grown popular over the years, serving as a stuntman for his father’s inventions. He is most known for being the first human to orbit around mars during a testing of his father’s Ferrari rocket ship.

“In just a few minutes, the curtains will open, and Dr. Venture will change the world forever. I’m told a portal will open and Henry Venture will enter it, being sent thirteen minutes into the future. What will be thirteen _agonizing_ minutes for us will be mere seconds for Hank…”

Kelly and Dagwood moved their way up to the stage. Wanting to blend in with the crowd, Kelly left his gas mask at home but still wore his mother’s old coat. Dagwood opted to wear his own clothing, one of his black suits and his favorite bear fur coat.

A group of fan girls crowding around the stage held up a giant sign that read ‘WE LOVE HANK!’ in bright glittery pink letters. Each wore a ‘Hank Fan’ t-shirt and were screaming at the top of their lungs, in the hopes that Hank, their idol, would hear them.

The people who were hired to protect the machine, guards in black suits and dark sunglasses, were busy trying to tame the fan girls, making sure they wouldn’t climb up on stage to get to Hank. So busy, in fact, they didn’t see Kelly and Dagwood slip up the stairs and enter through the curtain.

 

“Holy crap,” said Dagwood in a hushed voice.

The device itself was small but its controls beside it were very big. Slowly, Kelly made his way up to the controls. Curiosity getting the best of him, he switched it on. It vibrated, letting out a most terrible roar. A portal opened up and the room instantly illuminated blue, almost blinding the two boys.

“Woah… dude,” said Dagwood. He stepped back slightly while Kelly moved forward. “You think it really works?”

“Dunno,” said Kelly. He examined the control panel. In the center was a digital screen that had the words ‘MIN’ inside it. Below it, a little nob. “Minutes,” muttered Kelly. He twisted the nob clockwise and the screen read ‘HRS’. “Hours.” He turned it again. “Weeks.” And again. “Months.” He turned it one last time. “Years.” Beside it there was a number pad with the number thirteen dialed into it. Awe struck him as he looked upon the portal, wondering where he might end up if he goes through it.

Outside, the people cheered as a booming voice announced Dr. Venture. Dagwood peeked through the curtains and saw the doctor, microphone in hand, as he announced his creation to the world. The audience cheered, the fan girls up front being the loudest of them all.

“Dude, c’mon,” said Dagwood. “Just grab the thing and let’s get out of here!”

“What? No!” Kelly flicked the machine off, the portal closed and the blue glow disappearing instantly. “We have to wait for my dad,” said Kelly.

“They’re about to open the curtain!”

“Where is he?” he asked himself, nervously tapping onto the control panel. Mindlessly, his hands found the number pad, changing the positive number to a negative. His dad was late. He’d have to take the lead. “All right… we’ll go hide in the crowd until—”

The blue curtains opened, and the cheering crowd fell silent. Dr. Venture hadn’t noticed yet, carrying on with his speech like normal, unaware or uncaring of the audience’s sudden mood change. Awkwardly the two boys stayed frozen, hoping Kelly’s dad would quickly come and save the day.

* * *

 

Gary squinted his eyes, trying to make the old kitchen television less blurry. It was no use; even Kelly had trouble looking at it. The thing was a pile of junk, more static than picture most of the time. The only thing that got it to work was hitting it a few times, but Gary was too lazy to get up. Usually, Kelly was the one to do that. He gave up on trying to watch the show—some corny old cartoon with a laugh track—and switched it to the news. It was Dr. Venture’s big day and, of course, the news was broadcasting live at VenTech. They had the whole street blocked off for it, even.

While gorging down his second bowl of whole wheat cereal, he eagerly waited for Monarch’s “surprise” (scheduled) attack. He turned to the empty chair next to him, his thoughts going to Kelly. Normally, he’s down here with Gary, complaining about the terrible tv reception and enjoying a batch of Gary’s blueberry pancakes. He was still in his room, brooding about last night. He’ll be thirteen in March, Gary noted; probably getting a head start on that teenage rebellion thing.

As Gary slurped the milk up from his bowl, he heard the front door open. He stood abruptly, on full alert. “Kelly?” he questioned. _If that kid was sneaking out again…_ The door slammed shut and Monarch and Dr. The Mrs. entered the kitchen, both surprisingly wearing ordinary clothing. Monarch held a box of donuts from that bakery Kelly loves that was a couple blocks from their home.

“Wh-what’re you guys doing here,” said Gary. He motioned to the tv, some woman reporter was coming in and out of the static. “You’re supposed to be arching Venture right now! What happened?”

“My son’s what happened,” he said, a slight hint of anger in his voice. He dropped the box onto the table and turned to the television. The reporter was now interviewing Dr. Venture and Monarch let out a snarl. “God, I hate him,” he muttered, disgust in his voice. “Do we still have that shit ray?”

His wife shook her head. “We got rid of it at last year’s yard sale,” she said. “Remember, Truckules took it to help with his constipation.”

“Oh yeah,” said Monarch. “We should get a new one. Thing did wonders.”

“We’ll be spending the day with Kelly,” explained Sheila to Gary. “Take him to the city. Buy him some new jeans. Maybe go bowling. Whatever Kelly wants. A Kelly Day, so to speak, to remind him that he’s a valued member of our household.”

“And guess who came up with that idea,” said Monarch. “I’ll give you a hint: I am singlehandedly paying for her kid’s college tuition.”

“Dr. Lola is a professional therapist and she’s really helped Kelly this past year,” defended his wife. “He’s doing so much better in school, making more friends, joining clubs… He’s improved so much since last year.”

Monarch huffed but didn’t disagree with her. Kelly had become more confident since seeing her, less inside his shell. In fact, he first asked his parents to join the Guild around the same time he started seeing Dr. Lola. But two hundred dollars per session, three sessions a week was a lot for confidence building; too much on Monarch’s end, anyways.

“So, wait… you’re just gonna not show up? Like, just skip the arching?” asked Gary. “Do they even allow that?”

“We rescheduled for next Monday,” explained Monarch, frowning.

“Citing it as a family emergency,” said his wife.

 “Which is totally going to mess up my mojo,” said Monarch. “I had this whole thing planned out… I even had the minions repaint the outside of the cocoon.”

“But, at least, you’ll be showing your _son_ that he’s more important than some arching job,” said his wife with a glare.

“Well… of course Kelly’s more important than some arching job,” said Monarch. Suddenly noticing his son’s absence, he began looking around the kitchen. “Where is Kelly, anyway?”

“Still sleeping, I think,” said Gary, opening the box full of pastries and picking out a nice glazed donut.

“I’ll go get him,” said Dr. The Mrs. “We can all eat breakfast together.”

She made her way to leave, but Monarch stopped her. “Honey, uh, knock first,” he advised. “He’s… of that age.” With his right hand, he mimed a handy.

As she left to retrieve their son, Monarch took a seat next to Gary, his eyes glued to the television screen. They had just opened the curtains, but the picture was fading in and out; Gary could hardly see anything happening.

“It might be a good idea to turn this off,” said Gary. He reached for the remote, but Monarch stopped him.

“Wait,” Monarch said. He squinted at the television. “Who’s that on the stage?”

“Honey,” yelled his wife from upstairs.

Gary focused on the screen. It was difficult for him to see anything but static. He saw two figures: one tall and one short. “I don’t know. Hank and Dean?” It was a guess. He really couldn’t tell. Monarch wasn’t convinced, quickly getting up and hitting the television.

“Honey!” his wife said again.

Monarch gave the tv one last hit and the picture went clear. It wasn’t Hank and Dean Venture; it was Dagwood H. Fantamos and Kelly Don Fizcarraldo, standing center stage at VenTech. Both Monarch and Gary, mouths agape, looked on in shock.

“Monarch,” said Sheila, panic in her voice, “Kelly’s not in his room… or in the bathroom. I’m looking everywhere. Sweetie, I can’t find him. He’s not in the house!”

“Relax, honeybunch,” Monarch called to his wife.

“We found him,” said Gary.

* * *

 

Dr. venture couldn’t understand why the crowd had stopped cheering. Even the fan girls were dead silent. _My God, you people are in the presence of a time machine—a time machine, god damnit—and you have nothing to say?_ Still, he was determined to continue. “And now, may I introduce my son… Hank Venture,” he said.

Someone in the crowd coughed awkwardly as Hank Venture walked out. A few people clapped, but mostly it stayed quiet. Hank Venture was a big man, who was more muscles than smarts. Labeled a heartthrob in the media, he was most recognizable for his thick blond mustache and his robotic right arm. Many years of working for his father as his test dummy has made Hank more metal than man. This only seemed to increase women’s attraction towards him. He waved with his good arm to the crowd.

Glancing at the machine behind him, Hank suddenly understood why the crowd was so quiet. “Uh… pop?”

“What’s wrong with you people?” Dr. Venture finally snapped. “I mean, this is Hank freakin’ Venture! He went to mars, for God’s sake! Just a few minutes ago you were screaming his name!” His eyes went to the fan girls up front. “And what about you guys? Don’t you wanna climb up here and tear my son’s clothes off?”

“Pop!”

“Hank, honey, I’m defending your honor—”

“But, pop!”

“What could possibly be more interesting than a man with a robotic arm? Please… please tell me, so we can move on!”

A girl up front pointed behind Dr. Venture, at his machine, and, slowly, Dr. Venture turned.

“Who are you?” asked Venture to the two boys, who were slowly trying to tiptoe their way to the stage stairs. The boys froze, maybe hoping they could become invisible. “I can see you!”

Finally, the tall one stepped forward. His eyes wandered the sky, in search for something.

“We’re here to arch you.” It was the small one who spoke.

“I’m sorry?” said Dr. Venture, rubbing his ears to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. “You’re here to what now?”

“Arch you,” he said. “I’m Dagwood and this is…”

“Milkweed,” said the other boy.

Dagwood glared at his friend. “…Milkweed,” Dagwood said, disdain in his voice. “We’re taking the machine. And don’t try to stop us. We’ve got three snipers on you, just waiting for you to do something.

“Wait… Milkweed? Like, what Monarch butterflies eat? You’re Monarch’s kid, aren’t you? You are, aren’t you?” said Venture. Milkweed’s face went a bright shade of red. “He said he had to reschedule… I bet that was just a tactic to catch me off guard.” He looked around at the crowd, then up at the sky. “All right. Come on out, Monarch… Let’s get this thing over with. I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Milkweed, panicked, turned to Dagwood and whispered a few words. Dagwood stopped him and cleared his throat. He let out a forced, elegant laugh. “No, I’m afraid you are mistaken,” said Dagwood. “We are not associated with The Monarch… or anyone with the Guild, for that matter.”

Hank pointed at Milkweed. “Isn’t that a Guild jacket he has on?”

Dagwood examined his friend’s jacket, smiling to hide his anger. “It seems so. Yes.”

“All right,” said Dr. Venture with a sigh. He turned on his wrist watch and spoke into it: “Brock, get these two delinquents off my stage!”

Brock Samson and a group of guards climbed up onto the stage. “C’mon kids,” said Brock. “Just… get off the stage. This is… cute and all, but you’re biting off more than you can chew here.” Casually, he moved towards them.

Thinking quickly, Dagwood pulled out his Talkie from his pocket and aimed it at him. “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” he said. “You see this little red button here? I press it and we’re all blowing up.”

The guards froze, and the audience began to mutter words of panic, but Brock continued on. He cracked knuckles. “You shouldn’t have said that, kid.”

“Wait!” said a voice from the crowd. “Don’t kill them! They mean no harm!”

“Gary?” said Milkweed.

Everyone turned to the crowd as Gary approached the stage. “I’m here on behalf of The Monarch,” Gary explained.

“So, this _is_ the Monarch’s doing,” said Venture, crossing his arms. “I knew it.”

“No… No, I can assure you the Monarch had no involvement in this,” said Gary. He had approached the stage. “But we are willing to take full responsibility for any damages caused by these… delinquents, as you called them.”

“Why isn’t the Monarch here to say all this himself,” asked Venture.

“Well, he’s—"

Suddenly, the room went blue. While the grownups were distracted, Dagwood saw it as his chance to take the machine. While trying to pick it up, he accidentally turned it on.

“What’re you doing?” shouted Milkweed. “This isn’t what I want!” He pushed Dagwood to the ground, in an attempt to get him away from the machine. In return, Dagwood gave a hard kick to Kelly’s shin. In pain, Milkweed jumped back towards the portal.

He couldn’t see anyone. He heard their voices, he could tell that they were close, but he couldn’t see them. He could only see blue.

“Get him away from that!”

“Dude!”

“Kelly!”

He felt strong hands grab hold of him as he fell back. He blinked, his eyes only seeing blue, and hit the ground hard.

“You okay?” he heard Gary ask.

“Yeah,” he said, groaning.

Kelly sat up, no longer seeing blue. He turned to see if the machine had gotten damaged. It wasn’t damaged. In fact, it wasn’t even there.

Suddenly, he became aware of how quiet it was. Where was Dr. Venture’s voice, telling him to get away from his invention. Where was Dagwood’s voice asking if he was all right? It was practically silent compared to what it was just seconds ago. Finally, he turned to the audience… but all he saw were cars driving by.

“The… Where is everyone?” he said. People passed by, but they weren’t the same people as before, Kelly knew; these ones were going about their business like everything was normal. “It’s like… they all disappeared?”

“Now… I don’t want you to panic,” said Gary, “but I think—”

“We went through the time machine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See how things are tying up with the first chapter? I hope it makes sense (if not, I'll work on rewriting it).  
> I really wanted to hurry and finish this fic, because I'm so worried the next episode will ruin my motivation for the story. (It's the last episode of the season, I think, and I'm scared they’re gonna create canon that'll contradict my story.) Hopefully, it won't! Only two or three chapters left!!


	5. An Imitator

Boris Petrov had thought he had seen it all since taking this job as a taxi driver. There was that one guy who claimed to be God. The group of strippers, high on cocaine, asking him if he’d ever seen a dead body before (and if he would like to). Those two stupid criminals trying to use him as a getaway driver. But never—and he means _never_ —has he had people who think they’re from the future.

It all started when the big man asked him the date. “Tuesday, the eighth,” Boris responded simply. It’s not an uncommon question; he gets it at least twice a day. In fact, his daughter gifted him a mini calendar for Christmas to put in his car. But then the guy asked the year. He looked about ready to faint when Boris told him. The kid beside him went stiff, going through a silent panic of his own.

“Dude, we went back thirteen years,” he said to the kid, slumping down into his seat. “How-how... What’re we going to do? How are we gonna get back?”

“I don’t know!” said the kid. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It... it wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

When they got into the cab, they asked Boris to take them to some place called Paula’s Pastries. He didn’t know of the place, so they gave him the address. It was some breakfast place in New Jersey, apparently.

The man sighed. “Look, don’t worry about it,” he assured the kid. “I’ll get us back. You can hang out at Paula’s while I go meet with Dr. Venture.”

Dr. Venture? Boris knew that name. He was that millionaire from the paper, the one who invents all that fancy tech. Maybe they _are_ from the future, thought Boris, if it was a Venture time machine. No telling in New York; it’s crawling with weird creatures who don’t fit the time.

“What? No—I’m going with you. I can help!”

“Dude, the last place you should be right now is at VenTech,” he said.

“Okay, then I can go home and get mom and dad,” said the kid. “Mom and I—we could build something. They can help too!”

“Are you kidding?” said the man. “You’re not even born yet, dude—your mom’s not even pregnant with you yet. They’d freak out if you just showed up at their doorstep.”

“I don’t think Venture’ll be totally cool with it either.”

“Look,” said the man, “we’ll get to Paula’s. We’ll sit down, and we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Okay,” said the kid.

* * *

 

“ _And_ … it’s not Paula’s Pastries yet,” said Gary, looking up at the giant ice cream sign.

“Oh my God. I think I feel a panic attack coming on,” said Kelly. To calm himself, he started pacing. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes. “Normally, I’d call my therapist when I get like this, but she’s in grad school right now! And I can’t go to my parents because I don’t exist yet!

“Kelly… We’ll get home. I’ll fix this,” said Gary. He looked around, first up at the giant ice cream sign, then at the parking lot. “Okay… Okay, how do I fix this?

Kelly felt his coat pocket vibrate and suddenly he remembered he had his Talkie with him. He made it, so he could call long distance; he was thinking China, not thirteen years into the past. It had to be Dagwood, right? He quickly answered it. “Daggy?”

There was a breath of relief on the other line and then Dagwood spoke, “Oh my God, dude, everyone thinks Venture killed you.”

“What?”

“You were supposed to be back, like… seventeen minutes ago,” said Dagwood. “Where are you?”

Kelly wiped the tears from his eyes. Dagwood’s voice soothed him, and the panic attack flowed off of him like a moving river. “We went back thirteen years,” answered Kelly.

_“Years?”_ said Dagwood. “You were supposed to only be gone for, like, thirteen minutes, Dr. Venture told us.

“Everyone’s freaking out over here,” Dagwood continued. “Your dad’s trying to kill Dr. Venture. Brock Samson’s trying to kill your dad. Your mom’s in tears. Both the Guild and OSI are here—"

Gary grabbed the device from Kelly’s hand. “Hey!”

“Dagwood, this is important,” said Gary, “get Dr. Venture on. He’s probably the only one who can get us back.”

“Okay, hold on...”

“—Brock! Brock... _get him off of me—_ “

“—I’m gonna kill you, Venture... You killed my son—“

“—Hey, Dr. Venture, Mr. Monarch... uh, Kelly and Gary are on the phone. Gary told me to get you. He says it’s important—“

Dagwood’s voice cut out and was replaced by static. Both Kelly and Gary’s hearts sunk to their stomachs, hoping they hadn’t lost connection. But then, they heard muffled voices and finally a voice: “Kelly!”

“Mom!”

“Kelly, I thought I’d never hear your—”

“Gimme that,” said Dr. Venture’s voice. “Hey kid, what’s the big idea? It’s _my_ time machine. It says, ‘Property of Venture’ on it. Can’t you read? You know what everybody’s calling you and your little… friend? The Delinquent Duo. Ridiculous.” He sounded more jealous than angry, probably because Kelly and Dagwood stole his thunder. Kelly wonders if his dad was proud of him for ruining Venture’s day. He’s probably too mad to be proud, Kelly thought. “When you get back, there will be serious consequences. Do you hear me?”

Kelly rolled his eyes. He already had two parents that talked to him like that, he didn’t need Dr. Venture to come in and add on to it.

“We need a way to get back,” said Gary. “Can you, like, send the portal back to us or something?”

“It can only go one way,” explained Venture. “You go through the portal. The portal vanishes into nonexistence and you wait— _patiently_ —until time catches up to you. The little boy says you went _back_ in time. How far did you guys go?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Well, guess you’ll see us in thirteen years then.” And with that, Venture clicked the Talkie off.

Just as Kelly felt his panic attack reemerging, the Talkie clicked back on again. “Okay… fine, I’ll help.” Dr. Venture was talking to someone else, presumably Kelly’s parents. They probably just wanted to get them back, so they could kill Kelly themselves. “Look, you just need to get your hands on an Imitator,” said Dr. Venture simply.

“A what now?”

“An Imitator,” he repeated. “You know, it imitates any object it’s connected to. We can connect it to the control panel, it’ll create a new portal on your side and you’ll be back here in seconds.”

“Great,” said Gary. “Where can we find one?”

“Let’s see, I invented it six years ago at the Venture Compound, so—”

“So, we’ll have to wait seven years instead of thirteen?”

“Of course not,” said Venture. “The prototype’s with my dad—”

“Who is dead,” Gary reminded.

“It’s with his _head_ ,” Venture elaborated. “Dad invented the prototype back in the seventies. Later, after discovering it, I perfected it—you’ll have to do some rewiring to get it to work. I’ll walk you through it.”

“The OSI was in possession of Jonas Venture’s head back then,” Brock interjected. “So, you’ll have to go through them to get it.”

“I just sent an anonymous message through the machine,” said Kelly’s mom from a distance. “An OSI agent should meet you at the OSI front entrance with the Imitator if everything goes according to plan.”

“Just be at the OSI headquarters by two,” Brock told Gary. “And don’t be late.”

“Two? The OSI’s, like, two hours away,” said Gary. “I’d have to leave now if I’m gonna make it on time.”

“Gary, listen to me, you will get there with fifteen minutes to spare,” said Kelly’s mom. “You understand me? Now get moving!”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” said Gary. He clicked the Talkie off and turned to Kelly. “Here—eat as much ice cream ten bucks can buy.”

“What? I’m not going with you?” asked Kelly, examining the ten-dollar bill Gary just gave him.

“No, dude, there’s no telling what’s waiting for me down there,” said Gary. “Stay here, where it’s safe, and I’ll be back by six thirty.”

“Okay,” said Kelly.

“Take off your jacket,” he told him. “You need to blend in and you can’t do that with a Guild jacket on. You’re just a kid, getting some ice cream, as far as anyone else knows. Okay? I’ll hold onto it.” Reluctantly, Kelly removed his jacket and handed it to Gary. “Look, you have to promise me you won’t go looking for trouble, okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Kelly. “I won’t go _looking_ for trouble.”

“Okay, I do not like the way you phrased that, but I should have left thirty seconds ago, so I’m just gonna trust you’ll do the right thing.”

* * *

 

Gary had to promise the taxi cab driver he’d pay extra to go over the speed limit. Problem is, he only had thirty bucks in his wallet and had given ten of it to Kelly. Even though he hates doing it, he’ll have to use his henchman tranquilizer to get out of paying it. But first, he’ll have to get the device and get back to Kelly in one piece.

He arrived at the headquarters at one fifty. Not quite fifteen minutes to spare, but at least he wasn’t late. He told the cab driver to keep the car running, hoping he would be in and out quickly, and made sure the guy parked as far away from the building as possible. He held Kelly’s jacket in one hand and a butterfly tranquilizer (the only weapons he had equipped before leaving home this morning) in the other, just in case it got violent. Slowly, he approached the suspiciously unguarded gate.

“Hello?” he yelled out.

A large gun turret emerged from the ground and aimed itself at Gary, while two laser lights pointed at Gary’s chest. Slowly, he lifted his hands up above his head, to show them he means no harm.

“DROP THE COAT,” the voice instructed. “AND THE KNIFE.”

“It’s not a knife,” said Gary. Still, he dropped them both onto the dirt ground.

 “STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS HERE.”

“Uh... Gary Fisher,” he said. “I’m... I’m here to pick up the... the Imitator.” He didn’t know if that was a mistake. Should he have not said the name of it? Maybe he should have spoken in code or something. He wasn’t quite sure what he needed to do. He just needed to get the device. Somehow. “They said you would have it...”

The lasers disappeared from his chest and the turret sunk back into the ground, and, for a moment, Gary thought they had left, quit listening to him. But then the big metal doors opened, and the young Brock Samson stepped out, carrying a briefcase.

“Woah, dude,” said Gary, stunned. The gate opened, and Gary entered, meeting Brock halfway between the gate and the metal door. “You look... almost exactly the same.”

“Thanks,” said Brock. “You... don’t.”

“It’s a long story,” said Gary, rubbing the back of his neck. He motioned toward the briefcase. “Is that the Imitator?”

Brock lifted up the case and examined it. “Yeah... we were given specific instructions to bring it here and wait for you to pick it up. They said you’d have a kid with you.”

“I left him back at the ice cream parlor,” said Gary. “You know, just in case you decided to kill me or something.”

“Good call,” said Brock. He glanced at the metal door behind him. “Listen, could we move this along. I gotta pick Doc up from Pilates and... and it’s a long drive back to the city.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot Venture used to do Pilates,” said Gary. “I… I should get going, too.”

They stood in silence for a moment, then Brock finally spoke up. “Need me to call you a cab or something?”

“No, I’ve got one,” he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. “Had him park in the back.”

 “Okay,” said Brock, “I’m gonna get going now.” Quietly, he strolled his way back inside the OSI.

After the metal door shut, Gary grabbed the jacket and tranquilizer off the ground and ran quickly to the cab.

* * *

 

Gary arrived back at the ice cream parlor at six twenty-five, five minutes earlier than he had predicted. He entered the building and looked around, expecting to see Kelly. He saw a kid and his mom. An elderly couple. And a group of teenage girls. All enjoying some ice cream. But no Kelly. The boy was nowhere in sight.

He approached the lady at the register. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, “have you seen a twelve-year-old boy? He has black hair and blue eyes. I was supposed to meet him here.”

The lady gave him a curious look. “Um, yeah,” she told him, “he left… with _you,_ and that butterfly king guy. About an hour ago.”

_“Kelly, what’re you doing?”_ Gary mumbled to himself while quickly running out of the parlor.

 

Not able to get a cab, he ran to their home. It was exactly how it was thirteen years ago. The yard, looking so empty (no Kelly had been born to leave his toys out yet). The empty plot of land around the house. The working power plant behind the house, which had been abandoned shortly after Kelly turned five.

As quietly as possible, he opened the front door and entered the house. He waited for a moment, listening to see if anyone was in the house.

_“Kelly,”_ he whispered. _“Kelly, where are you?”_

He tiptoed around the house, noticing how different everything looked. Again, there weren’t any toys on the floor, not even Hot Wheels. There were no photos of Kelly up on the walls. And the refrigerator was naked without Kelly’s drawings and high test scores proudly being displayed.

Finally, he made his way down to the basement. The cocoon was gone, and the clothes Kelly had been wearing were sprawled messily on the floor.

“Oh no,” said Gary, “we took him arching.”

Stupidly, he entered the butterfly mobile and made his way to VenTech, hoping Kelly would be there.

* * *

 

Gary crashed his way inside the laboratory. Dazed, he stumbled out of it. His eyes found a group of people in space suits. Rubbing them, they focused, and he saw the young versions of Billy Quizboy, Pete White, Dr. Venture and Hank. It was Hank who shocked him the most, for he was the one who changed the most in thirteen years.

“Hi, Gary,” Hank greeted him. He waved with his arm, his not-yet robotic arm.

“Woah, dude,” Gary said, stunned, “I… I hardly recognize you!”

“Thanks,” the oblivious Hank replied, flexing. “Yeah, I’ve been working out.”

“That’s not actually why…” Gary trailed off. He needed to focus. He had to find Kelly. “I’m actually looking for somebody. A twelve-year-old boy… about yay high. He responds to the name Kelly—or, uh… Milkweed.”

No one spoke, so he began exploring the laboratory. Hank and the Venture team were huddled around a peculiar device that had pizza rolls inside of it. He spotted the cocoon, relief consuming him. “Dude, there you are!” he said loudly, in hopes Kelly would hear him. He knew he was in there. “C’mon! Let’s go, we need to get back.”

In a matter of minutes, Kelly hopped out of the cocoon. He was wearing a henchman butterfly suit and Gary tried hard to hide his anger. He didn’t have time to make a scene in front of his past self.

“You gotta stop doing this,” he told Kelly. “Your parents are totally gonna kill me.”

“What?” said Kelly innocently. “It’s not like you didn’t know where I was.”

Gary waited until they both were secure in the car before he replied. “Dude, I told you to wait for me at the ice cream parlor.”

“You were late.”

“I said six thirty. I got there at, like, six twenty-five,” he said as they drove off. “Dude, I don’t remember any of this! Like, I’m eighty five percent sure I got my memory wiped!”

“What do you want me to say? Sorry?” said Kelly. “How was I supposed to know you had your memory erased?”

Gary pulled into an alleyway and grabbed the Imitator out of the back seat. He also tossed Kelly’s clothes to him, telling him to change.

“Let’s just… talk about this when we get back home, okay?” said Gary. He opened his car door and stepped out, taking in the city night air. With a sigh, he pulled out Kelly’s Talkie and spoke into it: “We got the Imitator,” he said. “What do I need to do now?”

For a moment, there was no reply—the only sounds he heard were cars honking and a police siren in the distance—but then Venture answered. “It’s really simple,” he explained. It was then that the device began to get staticky. “You just need to connect the… to blue wire…"

“Hello?” said Gary. He slapped the Talkie a few times, like he does with the tv back home.

“—With… red… yellow to…”

“Uh, do you mind repeating that?” he asked. He clicked the device a few times, but there was no answer. “Great.”

He placed the briefcase on the ground and pulled out the device. Four different wires—red, blue, yellow and purple—were tangled together, and none of them were connected to anything.

“I can do this,” he mumbled to himself. “I can get us back.”

He grabbed the blue wire and examined the four plug-ins it might belong in. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe played in his head. Not wanting to mess anything up, he dropped the wire and tried the Talkie again. Still, only static.

It was then that Kelly stepped out of the butterfly mobile, dressed back into his clothes. He heard the static on the Talkie. “It does that sometimes,” he said. “Usually when there’s interference, like an airplane flying by or something. It should come back in a second.”

“Do you realize where we are?” said Gary, snapping. “We’re stranded… _thirteen year_ s from our real time! The longer we wait here, the longer we’re not there! This is serious. This isn’t, like, a video games, Kelly. We’re stuck here. With this machine being our only way back.”

Kelly sat down next to him, examining the device. Gary turned away, opting to look at the brick wall instead of the boy.

“Now, I know I’m not a scientist like Dr. Venture or anything yet, but,” said Kelly, grabbing the blue wire, “I think the blue wire connects to the blue component. And the red one with the red component… and so on, and so on.”

Easily, he connected the wires. A bright green light flickered on and the device began to hum awake. Gary looked at it, surprise on his face, but still, he said nothing.

“Look, I’m sorry I left the ice cream parlor. I didn’t think it was a big deal because I was still with you… You just didn’t realize it was me.” He let out a little laugh, and Gary turned to see him crying. “I just wanted to be part of the team. Thirteen years ago—I mean, _now_ —dad would’ve hired me in a heartbeat. He _did_ hire me in a heartbeat. But, now… now he tells me I’m too young? I didn’t seem too young today. What changed?”

“Dude, you!” said Gary. “Before you were born, your dad and I used to do all kinds of crazy things. I’m not even surprised we hired you at an ice cream place—that sounds like something we would totally do. But _everything_ changed after you were born. Like, everything.”

“I know that I messed up,” said Kelly. “I messed up. Bad. I was just trying to prove to you guys that I’m… capable.”

“Dude, do you know how many henchmen we lose per arching?” he continued. “Like, hundreds. We’ve lost so many people over the years, including my best friend. Your parents would be devastated if anything happened to you— _I’d_ be devastated!”

“I just feel so… _angry_ ,” he confessed. “And… and I feel like no one ever listens to me. Not mom. Not Dad. And especially not Daggy.”

“Hey,” said Gary, putting a gentle hand on Kelly’s shoulder, “I’m listening.”

The Talkie buzzed. “Sorry about that,” said Dr. Venture. “A plane flew by. Lost connection for a bit. As I was saying, you connect the—”

“Uh, we got it,” said Gary.

“Great. Now all we need to do is find something to connect the Imitator with the portal,” said Venture. “Like Bluetooth or—"

“Or a couple of Talkies?” said Kelly,

“A couple of what now,” said Venture. “Oh these… yeah, these’ll work. Just attach it to the bottom. Once they’re connected, the green light should turn blue.”

Carefully, Kelly attached the Talkie to the device and the green light turned blue, like Dr. Venture had predicted. In a matter of seconds, a bright blue portal appeared.

Gary let out a deep breath. “Oh, thank God that worked,” he said. “For a second I wasn’t so sure.”

“Things aren’t gonna change, are they?” said Kelly, his eyes focused on the portal. “We’re gonna get back and everything will be exactly the same as it was, like we never left at all.”

“Well, uh… you don’t know that. You don’t.” Gary said. “I mean, dude, we just became one of the first people to time travel— _time travel!_ That’s pretty life changing, I think, even if it was by accident.

“Look,” he continued, rubbing his neck, “just talk to your mom and dad. No, talk to The Monarch and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. Tell them about what you did here. Tell them what you said to me. And I’ll make sure they really listen this time… okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Kelly.

Slowly, they entered the portal, the blue light blinding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left, you guys.  
> Again, it would be helpful to let me know if this chapter was clear enough on explaining all the complicated things time travel has to offer. If anything is confusing, please don't hesitate to tell me, so I can fix it.  
> I noticed a few silly mistakes upon my read through of the fic. Once I'm done with this last chapter, I'll make sure to go in and fix all of that.   
> Gotta say, though, a little disappointing that Dr. The Mrs. wasn't revealed to be pregnant in this last episode. There's still hope for next season, I suppose.


	6. A Surprise of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been fun, guys. Hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of Milkweed's story!

The bright blue light faded away and the alleyway quickly turned into the VenTech stage, where a crowd full of people stood before them. The crowd cheered at their return. Both Gary and Kelly stared at them in awe. They were either really excited for their safe return or really excited to see the time machine actually work. Either way, the claps and cheers were for them, much to Dr. Venture’s dismay. Hank’s fan club seemed to have replaced their ‘Hank Fan’ T-shirts with handmade ‘DD FAN’ shirts, and they seemed to be the ones who were screaming the loudest.

Quickly, a bevy of news reporters climbed up onto the stage, pushing Gary away and crowding Kelly. In the distance, Kelly saw his parents and members of both the Guild and OSI push their way through the reporters.

“Milkweed!” called a reporter, holding a ‘Channel 5 News’ microphone up. Kelly recognized her as the Botox lady from earlier that day. “Milkweed, how does it feel to be the first kid to go back in time?”

Kelly opened his mouth, but another reporter stepped in, putting their microphone in Kelly’s face. “Milkweed, what will the notorious Delinquent Duo do next?”

“The... Delinquent Duo?”

At that, Dagwood stepped in, flashing his most charming smile. “Currently we’re between arches right now,” he said confidently.

“Milkweed! Milkweed, over here,” said one reporter in the back. “Are you afraid you might have created a time travel paradox?”

“Uh...” He turned to Dagwood, but he had gotten lost in the crowd. Kelly felt a strong hand grab him and lead him out of the storm of reporters.

“No comment,” he heard Gary say.

Dr. Venture’s guards quickly contained the reporters, leading them off the stage.

Kelly smelled his mother’s perfume and her arms quickly wrapped around him. His father’s arms quickly following hers.

“Oh, sweetie,” said his mother, tears in her eyes. “We’re so glad you’re okay.”

“Wait, you’re not... you’re not mad?” he asked.

“No, we’re furious,” said his father, though he was smiling, probably feeling both happy and relieved his son and number two had made it back in one piece.

“You’re definitely grounded,” said his mom, hugging him tighter.

* * *

 

When they got home, after both the Guild and the OSI issued a joint statement about the whole incident, Kelly’s parents sent him straight to his room. They said they needed to talk privately, to figure out a proper punishment for him. “We’ll talk later,” said his mother.

So, Kelly sat waiting in agony. His first instinct was to grab his Talkie and talk with Dagwood, see how he was handling his own punishment—probably got sent to his room again, with nothing but a butler and a large bowl of ice cream to keep him company—but it was back in an alleyway with the Imitator, fifteen years ago. 

After twenty-five long and painful minutes, Kelly, again, decided to take matters into his own hands. He would interrupt their conversation and say, “Mom and dad—no, Monarch and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch—I have proven myself worthy to be part of your team. I deserve a chance!”

Quietly, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to his door. He had to be quiet—there’s no telling what they might do if they thought he was trying to sneak out again. Silently and carefully, he turned the knob and opened the door.

His parents’ legs blocked him from going out into the hallway. He let out a nervous squeal and retreated back into his room, his parents following suit.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to, mister,” said his mother angrily. She crossed her arms and stared him down, like the villainous woman she is.

“I was just... I, uh...” With a deep breath, Milkweed lifted himself off the floor, and stood proudly before the pair. He stretched his neck out, to make it appear he was taller than Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.  

“I was going down stairs,” he said.

“Oh?” said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch curiously, raising an eyebrow. Her tone hid the fact that she was furious, but Milkweed saw the fire in her eyes.

“You were taking too long, so I thought I’d come to you. Quicken the process.”

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch looked at Milkweed suspiciously. She opened her mouth to speak, but Milkweed quickly silenced her.

“Please,” he said, “let _me_ speak.” She uncrossed her arms and turned to her husband, stunned. “Thirteen years ago—well, two hours ago for me—you met a boy in an ice cream shop and invited him to be one of your henchmen.”

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch slapped her husband’s arm. “You did _what?_ ”

“I... I didn’t!” he said defensively, rubbing his hurt arm.

“Oh, yeah, you guys also might’ve gotten your memory swiped,” Milkweed continued, “but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say here is... that boy was me. I ran into you and Gary—your past selves, I mean—and you let me join your ranks. I was henchman thirteen—you said you’d let me be called Milkweed if Dr. Venture crapped his pants.”

“That does sound like something I’d do,” admitted the Monarch. His wife glared at him. “But I… I didn’t!”

“Why are you telling us all this, swe—I mean… Milkweed, is it?” asked Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.

“Because I have proven myself worthy to arch so many times already,” said Milkweed. “If it wasn’t designing new weapons for Monarch’s existing henchmen, it was helping 21 sew up costumes for the new ones. I have done so much for you guys, but regardless of what I end up doing, you’re still just gonna see me as Kelly, you’re boring, non-super villain son.”

“But you are our boring, non-super villain son,” said Monarch. “I mean, you’re not boring!”

“Honey, we made you! We changed your diapers, we taught you how to walk... Sweetie, I breastfed you!” said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. “It’s a little hard for us to see you as anything _but_ our son!”

Kelly turned away, embarrassed. Did she always have to mention the breastfeeding thing? She thinks of it as some special bond they share together; maybe when he was a baby, yeah, but now he’s twelve. He’s older now and he doesn’t need to be hearing that kind of stuff from his mother. Plus, when he thinks of boobs his mind automatically goes to sex and… he doesn’t need to be thinking about his mother in that way. Or any girl, really.

“Time and time again, I have proven myself to you,” continued Milkweed, “and time and time again, you just ignore it. You just ignore me!

“Yeah, okay... I’m your son,” he continued, “but... I-I’m also a person! And you can’t keep me from living my life! All I ask is for you to listen to me.”

“Okay... okay,” agreed Monarch. Both he and his wife sat down on the bed and gave their full attention to Milkweed. “Prove to us you’re ready to be a villain.”

“We’re listening, sweetie—I mean, Milkweed.”

And listened they did. Milkweed told them everything, about how he feels like an outcast, in both school and at home, and listed out all his ideas about improving Monarch’s arches. He told them about his trip into the past. How past Gary had showed him around the cave. How he wore a henchman suit and was given the title ‘henchman 13’. How he freaked out because, for a second, he thought Dr. Mrs. The Monarch had somehow recognized him. Finally, he told them about figuring out Monarch’s shit ray and how, finally, his father treated him not as a son but as a fellow villain.

“Didn’t you see me out there today? They loved me. _They_ want me to be a villain. _I_ want to be a villain!”

“Honey...” Dr. Mrs. The Monarch stopped, turning to her husband. It seemed she didn’t know how to respond. She looked confused, a loss for words.

“Kelly,” said Monarch, “this just isn’t—“

“Before you go any further,” interrupted Milkweed, “I ask you both, The Mighty Monarch and Dr. Mrs The Monarch, to speak to me not as your child but as your equal.”

This took Monarch aback. He coughed, uncomfortable. “Oh, sorry, uh... _Milkweed_ ,” Monarch said, stiffening again, “your mom and—I mean... _we_ feel this isn’t the right time for you. You’ve got school. You’ve got homework. You’ve got clarinet lessons. Where... how are you going to do all that and be a full-time villain?”

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch grabbed her husband’s arm, nudging him to stop talking. “Milkweed,” she said seriously, “this is a lot to process for your—for us. We need time to adjust to this.”

“So... I’m part of the team now?”

His parents looked at one another, then turned back to him.

“No,” said his mother.

“Absolutely not,” said his father.

Kelly was ready to scream, to rip his own face off. He wanted to break every fragile thing in this terrible house. He kicked one of his chairs down and turned away from his parents, furious.

“See, the fact that you’re still throwing tantrums proves to us that you’re still not ready,” continued his mother. Quickly, Kelly picked the chair up, an attempt to try to disprove her words. “Sweetie, yes you’re growing up—and we need to accept that and give you more responsibility—but you’re still just a kid.”

“Our kid,” said his father sweetly.

Kelly had the urge to roll his eyes, to huff in irritation, but he stayed quiet and listened. He was determined to prove to them he was capable of being mature, capable of being a serious villain like they were.

“In two months, when you’re no longer grounded—“

 _“Two months,”_ said Kelly loudly, dumbfounded. His mother scowled at him. Kelly quickly straightened up. “I mean... two months. That is a reasonable punishment for my actions. Thank you and please continue, mother.”

“In two months,” she continued, “when you’re no longer grounded, we’ll talk about this again. If you’ve proven to us that you’ve grown, then we will consider you joining the Guild.”

 _Consider?_ There isn’t even a guarantee? Again, he wanted to roll his eyes. It took everything in his power not to storm out of the room. “Okay,” he said simply, hiding his anger.

“Oh,” said his father suddenly. He watched as his dad pulled a peculiar metal object out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, “the OSI gave this to us just before you came back.”

It was his Talkie. The thing that got them back from the past. It had fifteen years’ worth of rust on it, but it was still definitely his Talkie. He created the Talkies five months ago and, to think, there were three in existence at the time. He reached for it, but his mother grabbed it first.

“You can have this back when you’re no longer grounded,” she said. “That means no television, no video games, no _Sound of Music_ and no making or using any gadgets of any kind. You hear me? If Dagwood calls, I’ll make sure to tell him you won’t be available.”

Kelly only nodded—it’s not like he could argue with them—as his parents stood. His mother kissed him on his forehead. “Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” she said. “We’ll call you down when it’s time to set the table.”

“In the meantime, clean this room. It’s a mess,” said his father, gesturing to all the clothes sprawled out onto his floor and furniture. He ruffled Kelly’s hair and kissed his head.

They left the room and Kelly was left alone. Letting out a deep sigh, he began cleaning his room.

Two months, he thought. That’s totally unfair. Last time he got in trouble, he just couldn’t watch tv or go out for a week (which Kelly loved, because he spent that time making his Talkies). He isn’t quite sure how he’ll survive the two months without Dagwood or his devices. He’d like to just hibernate like a bear until it’s all over, but he doubts his parents, or his body would let that ever happen.

There was a knock on his door and Kelly mumbled out a forlorn “Come in.” Gary entered the room.

“Hey, how’d it go,” he asked.

Kelly looked at him, his hands full with clothing. “Better than yesterday, but... not as good as I would have liked.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “kinda thought that would be the outcome.”

“Got grounded for two months, too,” Kelly continued. With his arms full, he walked over to his closet and dumped all the clothes inside.

“Two months?” said Gary. “Downstairs they were talking about four.”

“Oh, well, that’s a good sign then, right?” asked Kelly.

“Yeah, dude, that’s totally a good sign.”

 

Milkweed and Dagwood got their fifteen minutes of fame. Though Dagwood got to experience the better part of it, for he didn’t have to spend most of it at home, grounded. Kelly spent a week in the spotlight at school. He had kids chanting his name and bombarding him with questions about the past the whole week. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Kids got bored hearing the same answers over and over again and quickly moved on to the next craze (which was a new video game Kelly was just dying to get his hands on). Monday morning, he was Milkweed, Heir of the Butterflies, but by Friday afternoon, they had gone back to calling him Kelly, just the clarinet player in band who happened to have spent a few hours in the past.

Kelly spent the rest of his two-month punishment on his best behavior, even taking on extra chores around the house. He needed his parents to know he was determined to win them over.

The two months had gone by quicker than Kelly had originally thought. He expected to be bored out of his mind, but the chores he was doing around the house and his school work kept him busy. Soon he was back to his old ways, inventing new devices and communicating with Dagwood through his Talkie.

Eventually, his parents sat him down for another long talk. It didn’t go well for Kelly, however. “We’ll think about it,” was all they told him. His mom said she was proud of all that he had accomplished, but she still wasn’t sure he was ready to arch. It took everything in Kelly’s power not to scream and storm out. Instead, he asked what he needed to improve on and listened to all they had to say.

* * *

 

Almost a year had gone by without any change. The world’s interest in Milkweed and Dagwood had long been over; they had moved on to the next craze, much like Kelly’s classmates had. Still, Kelly remained hopeful that one day Milkweed and Dagwood might move back into the spotlight.

Kelly watched intently as the microwave heated up his popcorn, making sure to listen carefully to the popping sounds. He was spending yet another Friday night with Gary and Dagwood while his parents went out on date night. Because Dagwood was thirteen and Kelly was about to be thirteen, Gary was referred as their guardian now, _not_ their babysitter. But it was just a word change; he was still the babysitter, Kelly knew.

Dagwood was beside Kelly, examining a small chocolate bar. Quickly it became uninteresting to him and he tossed it carelessly onto the counter where the other old Halloween sweets lay.

Gary sat at the kitchen table, watching the news on their new old and less staticky tv. Around Christmas time, their old one finally gave out and Kelly’s mom replaced it with one she found at a discount store. It was certainly better than the old one, but it was still pretty terrible.

The Botox lady that represented Channel 5 News was standing outside of the VenTech building with a group of FBI agents in the background. Kelly’s mom and dad were on their way out when the story got his dad’s attention.

“We’re live here at VenTech,” the news lady announced. “It was just hours ago that an employer of Dr. Venture’s leaked private information regarding his time machine. The worker chooses to remain anonymous, but he had this to say.”

The image cut to a thin man behind a screen. His shadow was all that showed. “It’s all a lie,” he said. His voice had been altered, so he had an unnatural deep voice, but he sounded almost like a pirate or a sailor to Kelly. It reminded him of Dagwood’s fake accent he used when he wore Kelly’s old pirate costume. “It be Jonas Venture Jr. who invented the time machine. His brother just slapped his name onto it and claimed it as his own.”

The image went back to the woman. “Both the FBI and OSI are investigating. Currently, the machine is being guarded by top OSI agents until this matter is resolved.”

“Would you look at this… I know he’s an idiot, but geez,” he heard his dad’s voice say. “I can’t have Dr. Venture going to jail. I’ll be out of a job!”

“Calm down, honey,” said his mom. “They’re just taking the machine away. Even if he did steal it, it’s not like they can do anything about it. His brother’s dead.”

Finally, the timer went to zero and the microwave dinged. Kelly eagerly took out the bag. “They’ll probably just give him a slap on the wrist. Make him give credit to his brother or something,” Kelly chimed in. He shook the bag in his hands, making sure the butter inside got on all the popcorn.

Dagwood moved to the fridge. “Yeah, he’s too powerful for anything permanent to happen to him,” he said, looking inside the fridge. Most of it was junk, like fruits and vegetables and other healthy stuff, but in the very back lay a beautiful cake, untouched.

“Exactly,” agreed Kelly’s mom. “Sweetie, you have nothing to worry about. Now don’t let this ruin your night.”

“Fine,” said his dad, grabbing the keys to the butterfly mobile off the counter, “let’s go.” He gave a weak wave and shuffled his way out of the kitchen.

“Oh, dear God, it’s gonna ruin his night,” said his mom with an exasperated sigh. She turned to Kelly and kissed him goodbye. “We’ll be back before eleven. There’s pizza money on the counter—the cake’s off limits,” she added as Dagwood pulled out the large cake in the fridge.

 _“What?”_ said Dagwood.

“Mom, we can’t have cake?”

“It’s for your party tomorrow, sweetie,” she said. “I can’t believe my baby’s turning _thirteen_. It seems like only yesterday we were driving you home from the hospital.” Her motherly urge taking over, she pulled Kelly in to a tight embrace.

“Mom!” said Kelly, his cheeks red from embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just another birthday.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re just growing up so fast.”

“You know, Dr. Mrs. Monarch,” started Dagwood, “in some cultures, thirteen is the age where a boy becomes a man. Now, that’s something you might want to consider when you’re with your Guild council.”

“Dagwood,” warned Kelly. He had stopped asking his parents to join the Guild after it became apparent they had already decided no. Kelly hated it, but he needed to show them he was mature enough to respect their decision. Even if it was the stupidest decision on the planet.

“Honey, let’s go,” yelled his dad from the other room.

She gave Kelly one last hug and kiss goodbye. “Stay away from the cake,” she said. “Call if you need anything.”

* * *

 

Kelly watched mindlessly as the von Trapp family hiked their way up the mountain with Climb Ev’ry Mountain playing in the background. The credits came on screen… and, suddenly, it went black. Gary had turned off the television.

“Okay, bedtime,” he said, nervously looking at the grandfather clock.

“What? It’s only—ten forty-five!” argued Kelly.

“Dagwood’s ready for bed,” said Gary, gesturing towards the sleeping Dagwood, who was snoring loudly and drooling all over the couch pillow. He wasn’t a fan of old classic musicals like Kelly was. But, he didn’t protest when Kelly suggested they watch it. Kelly was about to have a birthday, after all.

“Well… that’s beside the point,” said Kelly.

He slapped Dagwood’s leg, jerking him awake. “Is it over,” asked Dagwood tiredly. He yawned and stretched his muscles out.

“Yeah… but Gary wants us to go to bed.”

“Great, I’m beat,” said Dagwood, standing. “Plus, I’ve got the part where all the kids say cuckoo stuck in my head. Not the song, just the cuckooing.”

Gary glanced at the clock again.

“Birthday thing?” asked Kelly curiously.

“What—no! What makes you think… Okay, yeah,” said Gary, defeated. “Your parents told me to get you in bed before they got home. You don’t have to sleep. You just have to be up in your room.”

Dagwood fell asleep straight away. He didn’t even unroll his sleeping bag. Kelly waited for his parents to get home. Maybe they were getting him a new bike; the bike he has now was old and outdated, no bike for a teenager. Or maybe they were just going to set up for his party; it will probably just be a casual affair with more of his parents’ friends than his own. He isn’t quite sure what the surprise might be.

He waited eagerly by his door. When eleven came, Kelly started to get excited. What if it was, like, an Air Hockey game or something and they needed to spend the night setting it up. Eleven thirty was when he started to get worried. They said they would be back _before_ eleven. Kelly even tiptoed out into the hallway to look and see if they were downstairs. All he saw was Gary watching television in the living room. Maybe Gary was just the distraction. Midnight came around and Kelly still hadn’t heard the front door open. Something was up. Unfortunately for Kelly, he fell asleep at around two, so there was no way of knowing what his parents were up to.

* * *

 

“Rise, Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars,” a scratchy voice echoed in Kelly’s head.

“Cut it out, Daggy,” mumbled Kelly, turning away from the voice. He felt a pain in his neck, a side effect from sleeping on the floor, no doubt.

There was an awkward cough. “I said _rise_ , Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars,” the voice repeated.

Kelly opened his eyes. Watch was standing over him with a big smile sprung across his face. “What… why are you in my room?” asked Kelly, rubbing his tired eyes.

“This isn’t your room,” responded Watch. “Now, I’m only going to say this one more time. Rise, Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars.”

Upon standing, Kelly realized he was in nothing but his underwear. “Dude! You _undressed_ me?” he said, attempting to cover himself with his arms and hands. He didn’t know what was going on, but he hoped it was just some sort of sick dream.

“It’s part of the initiation,” said Watch simply. “And don’t worry, it was your mom who undressed you.”

“Like that’s any better!”

“Yeah, it was pretty awkward,” he admitted. “Probably should have woken you first, then let you take your own clothes off. This is a process—we’re learning as we go.” In his hands he held up a black cloth. “I’m going to blindfold you now,” he explained loudly. “No need to be alarmed.”

“Woah,” said Kelly, snatching the cloth out of Watch’s hands, “can you please just tell me what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

“It’s part of your initiation,” said Watch simply. “For the Guild.”

“The Guild?” said Kelly, stunned. “Like, I’m in? I’m a villain now? This isn’t some sort of joke or anything?”

“No, you’re totally in. Congratulations!” he said. “Oh, and happy birthday.”

Kelly turned away, feeling a rush of excitement run through his body. He did it. He finally proved to his parents he was worthy. He celebrated in silence as Watch watched on. Finally, Watch pulled Kelly back into reality. “I don’t mean to rush you or anything but… everyone’s sort of waiting for us.” He motioned to the big red door beside them.

“Oh, right,” said Kelly. He let Watch put the blindfold on him and lead him into the initiation room.

“Milkweed,” said a terrifyingly deep voice. Milkweed recognized it as Red Death’s voice. “The Caterpillar Prince and Heir of the Butterflies, and… Dagwood, we have brought you both here today because you have proven your worth to us.”

“Months ago,” said a voice that sounded an awful lot like Dr. Mrs. The Monarch’s, “it was decided you two would be among the first teens to serve as members of The Guild of Calamitous Intent.”

“Now that the younger of you has come of age,” continued Phantom Limb’s voice. Milkweed couldn’t help but smile at that. “It is time… for your initiation.”

Milkweed’s blindfold was removed, and he turned to see Dagwood, standing in nothing but his purple silk boxers, beside him. Around them were the Guild council members, sitting behind a television-like screen that hid their faces

“Kneel,” said Phantom Limb.

Both Milkweed and Dagwood knelt, and Watch and Ward quickly put heavy black blankets over them.

“These are the cloaks of our fallen,” said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. “You wear the cloaks today to remind you how heavy the burden of villainy can be sometimes.”

“Drink this,” said Phantom Limb. Both were handed a skull with a peculiar red liquid inside. Feeling the skull, Milkweed could tell it was made out of plastic. “It is the blood of our sacred.”

Milkweed swished the liquid around in the skull. “This… this isn’t _real_ blood, is it?”

“Cranberry juice,” said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch simply. “It _symbolizes_ the blood of our sacred.”

“Yeah, I’m not really into cranberries,” said Dagwood. “Got any grape?”

Phantom Limb let out an exasperated sighed. “Just… drink the juice.”

“Okay, sorry… forgot you guys were old and have to drink cranberry juice all the time,” mumbled Dagwood.

Together, Kelly and Dagwood drank the sacred blood from the skulls. “You drink the sacred blood today to connect you and your villain brethren. Your blood now flows with ours.”

“Now rise, young Milkweed and Dagwood,” said Radical Left’s voice. “Leave your mundane selves behind and start your life anew as level one villains.”

Milkweed stood, his cloak falling off him, but Dagwood remained kneeling.

“Wait a minute… _What_ ,” said Dagwood, annoyance in his voice.

Finally, it hit Milkweed, too. _“Level one?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you have any question regarding the story. I did my best to tie things together. The ending's kind of lame, I know, but I wanted to do a typical Venture bros episode ending where little to nothing gets resolved. Yeah, Milkweed gets to be a villain, but he's only a level one (and won't be working alongside his dad or Gary).  
> I do kinda want to make a sequel to this. It would be about Milkweed and Dagwood being level one villains, but are seen more as celebrity bad guys rather than actual villains (which they love). They're more show than tell. Maybe I'll write that someday. Who knows?   
> Thank you so much, you lovely readers. You have been a joy to write for.


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